Your Saving Grace
by GaleSynch
Summary: Thalia and Taylor Grace: two sides of the same coin? Not exactly. Not when Taylor Grace used to be someone else before he was reincarnated into a fictional-turned-real world of Greek and Roman gods—where dangers ranged from monsters to Hera to this complicated thing called love. Self-Insert, OC.
1. o0O0o

**Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan**

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><p><strong>Your Saving Grace<strong>

**Prologue**

by GaleSynch

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><p>My name is Taylor Grace.<p>

Well, Taylor is actually short for another name but I don't like my second first name very much. Right, I sense the confusion at the mention of second first name.

Would you believe me if I said this was my second life?

No?

Sensible answer. I didn't believe it myself either.

I guess the story starts on the day I was reborn: 22nd of December, in the bustling city of Los Angeles, in the year 1988.

—

My twin sister and I were born conjoined. Good thing: neither of us were older so there would be no bossing around using the "I'm older than you" card. Bad thing: having someone cut you apart was not a pleasant sensation and it hurt like shit.

In retrospect, it was probably an ominous sign of what was to come. Our new mother, Beryl Grace, should've known that her time with us was short.

Because the lives of demigods were summed up in two words: _it hurts_.

I only vaguely remember the events of what was happening when I was reborn again. There were tons of screaming from Beryl Grace, cutting over the doctor's reassurances that we were perfectly healthy and we just needed surgery to separate us.

Even to this day, Thalia and I each have a scar on our backs, a reminder that we were twins and that no matter what happened, we were still twins. Even though the age difference between us was now very... confusing and frustrating but more on that later.

My stay in the hospital as an infant was not pleasant. I could barely see and while I was glad they spoke a language I could understand, my hearing wasn't very good and I always fall asleep—like, every three to four hours. And not to mention, I had to get used to the fact that I was an infant again.

Being changed and fed by others... needing to rely on strangers to survive... the feeling of being out of control, unable to walk or even attempt to fight back...

I did cry in frustration a couple of times, but nothing serious in comparison to the tantrums my twin threw. Even as a baby, Thalia Grace was domineering. So I guess that she didn't like relying on our mother for survival.

It was a good instinct because our mother wasn't very reliable. No, in the first few years of our lives, she was pretty OK. A little neglectful and careless but not too bad.

I like to think I was an easy baby in comparison to Thalia. Or rather, I relied on Thalia as an alarm clock for our Beryl Grace. Whenever my twin cried, she would be fed first then my mother would remember I existed and feed me as well.

Thalia was always first. Well, it might also be because I decided to use her as a measuring stick. When she spoke her first word, I did too. When she started crawling, I followed soon after. And it repeated in that same pattern whenever we encountered something new: she would be the first to approach it before I did.

She was a curious baby and daring even as a kid. I was more... cautious. Thalia was still a child back then, she knew very little of the dangers we would be facing so it was always up to me to watch out for her. It was pretty ironic how I thought myself as the older twin and everyone thought Thalia was the older one because she did everything_ first_.

The only first I beat her to was being carried by my dad.

I suppose I was extra-sensitive to him. My hair stood on end and goosebumps rose when the door clicked open without anyone opening it. I was arranging my toy blocks, not because I like playing but because I had nothing to do. I was startled, of course, that a stranger strode in like he owned the place.

So I started screaming.

The strange man gave a start but hurried over to me. I was trapped. I couldn't run or crawl—fast enough to evade him at any rate. I was just hoping that Beryl Grace's ability extended to being able to wield a wok and spatula like a sword and shield. I was imagining all the terror that would befall me that it took me more than a minute to realize the man was comforting me, trying to stop me crying in the gentlest way possible.

I stopped crying, dissolving into small sniffles as I twisted to look in his face, trying to see who he was. Being over three months old as far as I could guess, I could see and hear very well now.

The first thing I noted about him was his eyes. They were an electrifying shade of blue with cloudy gray in them, as if shielding his thoughts from being read directly out of his eyes. There were white strands woven into his hair. I suppose he could be considered handsome.

Noticing that I'd stopped crying, he smiled. There was a certain stiffness to it that made me think he smiled rarely and it was weirding him out to do that now. "Well, you have a pair of powerful lungs, Thalia."

I giggled. He thought I was my twin? Before I could try to correct him, I heard Beryl entering the room. She gave an audible gasp; I heard my sister cooing in question.

The man turned to stare at my new mother and my sister. There was a stunned silence; I glanced around to see Thalia making grabby motions for the man. Or me; she was looking directly in my eyes.

"Er... I was under the impression we were going to have a daughter... not two?"

Mother bypassed all that. "Zeus!" she cried and, Thalia in arm, threw herself at the man carrying me, pulling all of us into a group hug.

Zeus?

I stared, eyes wide in disbelief, at the man. Now that I paid more attention, I could feel power emanating from him. I still had goosebumps that didn't seem to be going away soon.

Thalia cooed in contention.

Zeus? As in the Greek god of lightning?

What?

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><p><strong>[AN]:** I'm sorry if the format is a little confusing. It'll get clearer in a few more chapters. This is the PJO fic I promised. Its inspired by "Eye of the Hurricane", another PJO SI and "Masked Blessing" by Marionetto16.

Yeah, I know that I have other stories but I don't have inspiration for them at the moment. I'll update the other fics soon, don't worry about me being stretched thin. I'll update when I have inspiration.

**Question:** You'd notice that I _didn't_ mention a particular gender. So the OC/SI could be either gender and Taylor is a unisex name. So, which is it? **Boy** or **girl**? Also, should this kid _have knowledge_ of the future?

Your choice.

**Review!**


	2. i

**Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan**

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><p><strong>Your Saving Grace<strong>

**Chapter 1**

by GaleSynch

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><p>I chalked it up as coincidence first. I've never met Greek people but I assume my new father was one and he was named after a mythology figure. I watched him intently as he placed me on the ground, after detaching himself from mother with much difficulty, ruffling Thalia's hair but did not pick her up.<p>

"Zeus, I... well, I expected only one child—a daughter—but a son, he's a pleasant surprise isn't he? I guess we didn't detect him because he was conjoined with his sister."

My father nodded distractedly. He turned me around, not noticing my look of horror. Thalia was obviously a girl, the name indicated such and we'd been bathed together enough times for me to notice she was a girl. What boy? There was no other infant here except—

Me. I was a boy. She was referring to me.

How was that possible? I wanted to smack myself, preferably on the ground but Zeus had a firm hold on me as he unzipped my onesie. I squirmed, trying to wiggle away. "You say this blonde one is a boy?" asked Zeus for confirmation. "Conjoined... at the back?" I turned around to see a deep scowl on Zeus' face. It was not ire directed at either of us but I still felt uncomfortable.

"This the work of your... wife, isn't it?" Beryl Grace asked, a terrible look on her face as she spat 'wife' like the worst possible swear word there was.

Wait. If this man had a wife that wasn't my mother... then... Mom! Why do you look so pissed when you're the one butting into their marriage? And what _work_? What had my father's wife done to me?

Zeus nodded. "Yes, she's the goddess of childbirth. Without a doubt, she did something to combine the two eggs that house fraternal twins in hopes they kill one another... we must thank the Fates that they protect Thalia and... what's his name? Their destinies are marked to be special if the Fates intervened to ensure their continued survival."

"Thaddeus Grace," snapped Beryl Grace; her eyes were flaming with emotion.

My sperm donor heaved a sigh. "You should've named him Jason after Hera's favorite mortal. It might've appeased her somewhat."

I glanced between them, trying to make heads or tails out of this conversation. I felt as if common sense had dropped out entirely. Why did the man say mortal as if he wasn't... well, human? And what sort of coincidence was that? A husband named Zeus had a wife called Hera who liked a guy known as Jason?

And Thalia... I looked at my twin. Thalia Grace: wasn't that the name of one of the main supporting characters in a novels series I read before? The daughter of Zeus? A demigoddess?

I was her twin. I was... I was...

Look here, I was careful not to think _gods of Olympus!_ in case that opened a slot in my mind for them to roam around my thoughts and memories: stuff that ordinary babies really did not entertained the thought of.

I was gaping and even Thalia had fallen silent as Beryl Grace—our mother—raised her voice. "And why should I try to APPEASE her?"

If I could speak, I would've said, _So that she doesn't kill or curse us, lady. Did you know what she did to Hercules?_

But I couldn't so that was besides the point. I stared at them. My sperm donor heaved a sigh, zipping my onesie up and standing; he easily towered over our mother. For one moment, I thought he was going to raise his hand against her. But he didn't. However, his voice was hard when he spoke: "I thought our children mattered to you more than this."

"And what took you so long?" Beryl snarled back. "I could've said the same to you!"

The man spread his hands helplessly. "I have my duties to attend to. Anyhow, Hera knows. She is too familiar with my essence within the children developing in their mother's womb to not be able to tell a child of Zeus when she saw one. I have to keep a low-profile. Speaking of which, I may not stay long. Gods forbid, if my brothers find out—"

"Then you should stay longer to... to protect us," said Beryl, her voice mellowed and honeyed now.

"Another time, perhaps." Zeus—the king of Olympus—was watching Thalia and I. There was an inexplicable sadness in his eyes, as if he was reading our obituary. "I'll visit when I can. Goodbye, Thalia, Thaddeus..." He leaned in and kissed the mortal woman. "...Take care of them, Beryl."

"Don't I always?" she asked bitterly, watching with harsh eyes as he disappeared into thin air.

Like, into air. His body twisted and lost its color until a strong wind blew: and when I reopened my eyes, he was gone. Thalia yawned, rolling onto her back.

A nap sounded like a good idea.

**:: :: ::**

My sister and I shared a crib. I watched her freckled face, peaceful and innocent in sleep. I thought about the Thalia portrayed in the books: bitter, battle-hardened, lonely, in pain. And I felt like crying on her behalf because she would be too proud to cry.

I was her brother.

_Brother._

I'd heard the term conjoined twins before and Siamese twins undoubtedly meant same-gender kids so I thought both Thalia and I were girls. You'd think I would've noticed when Beryl changed me after I... wet myself. But that was it: the experience was so embarrassing and humiliating that I blocked everything out during those times until I was dressed again. I could never look Beryl properly in the eyes.

For the record, I _was_ a girl.

But apparently, the body I inhabited belonged to a boy. Fraternal twins, in different eggs within Beryl Grace's womb. Hera had planned to kill Thalia and I by forcefully meshing us but the "Fates" had protected us, as Zeus'd said. I was pretty sure they knew about me. They probably had a hand in it.

Honestly. Couldn't I have gotten a girl's body to match my past life's gender?

N_ooooo_... I was born as a boy. I imagined the Fates were gathering barbed wire to weave my fate with. Thanks a lot, I thought sourly, subconsciously shifting closer to Thalia.

I really did not look forward to being potty-trained.

**:: :: ::**

Once I'd gotten enough rest, I started to review what I knew about the PJO series. I'd finished every book but I didn't have a good memory about every event. The Heroes of Olympus series was something I was less-familiar with: not good since Jason Grace, my would-be brother if things went as planned, would be facing troubles there and my foreknowledge would've helped a lot.

What I didn't understand was why I existed. I'd just mess things up.

What? You think I'd just stand by and let someone take my brother away? That's if, Jason would be born. I did not look forward to taking his place in the series.

But there was no guide. Had something like this happened before? If I reached Camp Half-Blood, I would be getting my hands on the books in Athena Cabin concerning reincarnation. There had to be others like me; I hoped they'd written a guide. If not... well, I was screwed either way but that didn't mean I shouldn't write a journal and leave it for people in the same situation as I am to suffer.

I was not that cruel. I believed in karma; if I was nice, people would be nice to me, too.

Wish the same could be said for Beryl Grace though. I swear, I was nice to her in which I tried to be the least troublesome and most obedient baby in the neighborhood. She started drinking. She stopped breastfeeding us—thank the Fates!—and instead let us drink from baby bottles.

She also started drinking. Alcohol, I meant. She was a talkative drunk which meant that she talked a lot but fortunately, would not be sober enough to hit us or do anything else. She cussed a lot though. Thalia often sat at her feet and stare at her; I could see the signs of mounting distaste for our new mother.

My feelings for Beryl was... complicated to say the least. She went through a lot of pain to give birth to me, that I was grateful to her for that. But she could've been a better mother. I usually stayed out of her way and encouraged Thalia to do the same.

We had few books in the house and we had dyslexia. I was completely devastated by this fact. It was a simple picture book but Thalia tore it in frustration: neither of us could read it for the letters kept floating around. I knew ADHD and dyslexia were signs of a demigod but that didn't stop me from being bitter.

It was a wonder demigods weren't illiterate.

Thalia and I spent our time playing, running around the apartment, usually playing chase or hide-and-seek. "Keep it down, ya little rascals!" was what our mother always yelled at us in the mornings. She'd suffer from a major hungover from the previous night and she'd spent the whole morning recuperating.

I was worried when I realized Beryl Grace had no steady job. Our income came from Zeus; he sent monthly child-support checks that covered our needs. I wished he'd stop giving so much that Beryl could buy more alcohol. There were times there were no checks for months consecutively and that was how I knew Hera was in a royal snit.

Beryl had her moments of being motherly. But her maternal side only emerged at night, when she was tucking us in. At the age of three, Beryl had moved the crib to the far corner of the room and bought us a bed to share.

After a simple, "Ma, I can't read," from me, Beryl had finally been clued in on the fact that we were dyslexic so she read stories for us and spelled the words out. It was always the nicest part of the day. And because we had bedtime stories to look forward to, Thalia and I always went to bed at least ten minutes before eight.

And did I mention the fact that I liked sleeping?

Beryl would always leave at ten o'clock sharp, though. Only later would I find out that she worked at a bar as a waitress; she had night shifts and while she was there, it was also convenient for her to get drunk.

Ignorance was bliss; Thalia fell asleep not long after our mother left. But I wouldn't be able to sleep until I heard Beryl come home, around four in the morning sometimes so I wouldn't wake up until at least one in the afternoon. Unhealthy sleeping pattern? Yes, I know.

How could Beryl drive while she was drunk?

My heart seized up in fear whenever I thought about her death. For Beryl had not lived long at all. She was involved in a car accident, driving while intoxicated. However, talking her out of this bad habit was out of the question; I was a kid, what did I know? Besides, she'd never given us the lecture about how bad it was to drive while drunk: there was no way I would be able to justify my knowledge when I couldn't even read.

I was contemplating how to stop her when I heard someone tutting.

From behind me. I hadn't even heard someone coming in! And who could anyway?

My body stiffened; I kept my eyes fixed on Thalia, but my sister was asleep. Maybe I was imagining things, I told myself, trying to calm my beating heart. Just like I'd first met Zeus, my hair stood on end and goosebumps were rising.

There was an immortal deity in this room; power oozed into every corner of the room. I was surprised Thalia was sleeping so soundly. Mechanically, I turned to see who it was.

A regal woman stood a few paces from the bed; her mahogany hair was lustrous and her eyes glowed with power. There was a homey feeling around her and for the briefest moment, I thought I saw my mother's face superimposed on hers. Not Beryl Grace the mother of this body; but my mother, the real one in the other world.

I shrunk back. She tutted again. "Fear nothing, little boy. The Fates prevent me from directly harming you if both you and your sister are breathing still." Her smile was dark. "They, however, do not stop me from breaking your spirit."

"Who're you?" I asked, curious despite my reservations about her.

"My name is Hera, _boy_." Now she sounded like Artemis: dislike was poured into the last word, as if boy was the absolute worst thing I could be.

I tried for a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, Hela."

Her eyes flickered; her smile was thinning. "Hera, boy. Get rid of that pathetic lisp."

I tried again, deciding that ignoring her was certainly not wise. "He'a."

"_Hera_," she stressed.

It was too funny; I snickered. "Hera! Hera!"

She cast me a thin-lipped smile. "Avert your eyes, Thaddeus," she warned, her body glowing gold. For the first time, I noticed that she had a regal beauty about her.

"'aylor."

The goddess' brows furrowed, the light dimming. "What?"

"'aylor. My name." That was not proper. I amended myself: "'m 'aylor." Hera studied me critically, as if examining how much I was worth before I buried my face in the pillow. When I looked up again, she was gone.

It was an odd night.

**:: :: ::**

My childhood nickname was Teddy. Laugh all you want but it was cute when Thalia said it. That didn't mean I was OK when my teachers and classmates used that name.

"It's Taylor!" I told them angrily. "Taylor! Not Teddy and certainly not Teddy-Bear!"

The girls would giggly and the boys would pull my hair. Good thing I have Thalia. She sent them all packing. Even at the tender age of six, she was already a protective, brave and caring girl. We were mere kindergartners but she got into fights every single day.

I only joined when I felt that Thalia was horribly outnumbered. It was actually fun. Being a son of Zeus meant I had enhanced strength; the mortal kids were weaker than Thalia and I combined.

The best thing? Beryl wouldn't even care. Thalia and I had ended in the principal's office, our principal whom we nicknamed Snivelly, had phoned our mother.

It went like this:

"Your kids are causing us a lot of trouble, ma'am."

"Uh-huh." That was our mother's general response to everything in the mornings. She was hungover. Never had I been more glad that she would be out of it in the mornings.

"Would you please come to school so we can sort this out?"

"So they got into a couple of fights. Big deal. Its in their blood. Their older half-siblings do it all the time; Helen even started a war! You ever see someone arresting Hercules or Perseus? No_ooo_... they were rewarded and heralded as heroes! My kids are going to be like them someday—"

"Um, yes. Well, your kids would just, uh, send their love."

"Mm. Love you brats, too." Then she hung up without saying goodbye.

I laughed; Thalia smirked imperiously and crossed her arms, shooting the old man a smug look. Until he, very seriously, asked us if we'd like to go somewhere better.

Thalia's smirk drop in confusion; she glanced at me. "Whaddya mean?" she asked warily, arms crossed defensively across her chest. You can see our dad's paranoia in her little, six-year-old face. Cute.

"It is quite obvious your mother is not stable—"

"Shut up," I snapped before I could stop myself. Thalia turned and stared, eyes wide. I was acting uncharacteristically to her: even when someone pissed me off, I usually ignored them and Thalia would deal with them, the fact that I was speaking up surprised her I guess. "You know nothing about us. Shut up, you old coot."

The principal's face reddened. "Now, look here, young man. You have no father and if you have half siblings—"

"Don't talk bad about Mom!" yelled Thalia, red-faced now that she was realizing our principal was implying our mother was unstable.

I'd never met an unstable woman before and I only read in newspapers (in my past life, I was dyslexic remember?) about severe child abuse—those sort of cases were the ones that usually ended up in the news. As far as I was aware, Beryl Grace was neither.

Sure, there were bad days we had to watch over our mom instead of the other way around and we had to turn her over in case she drowned in her own vomit. Or that we had to do the chores and keep the house in shape when our mother would laze around.

I could tell Thalia would be frustrated by how she was treated like a slave. And it was usually my job to make it fun and important: such was the power of being years older. But she was growing older and smarter with each year so it was getting harder to motivate her into doing anything.

And when Thalia was frustrated or angry? It never ended well.

Like now.

My nose caught the scent of ozone in the air and when I turned around, I saw Thalia's body surrounded in electricity. The principal's eyes were wide too.

"Thalia!" I cried before she could do something rash like electrocute the principal. He was an old man, he would not be able to take it—not that I was averse to watching his hair puff up like an afro. "Stop it!"

"He said—he said—"

"He's an idiot," I said loftily, hand on her shoulder to placate her. It didn't sting like I'd expected it too. "We shouldn't bother with dumbasses like him." Her anger cooled enough to simmer quietly beneath skin but the principal was beyond livid.

The Mist that covered mortal mind must've worked on him because he thought the 'child of Zeus' thing was actually because we pulled the plug off his computer and trashed it. How his mind worked that crap out, I'll never know.

Long story short: we were expelled.

Beryl was more curious than angry though. She eyed Thalia curiously. "Electricity, you say?" We nodded. Then Beryl graced us with a rare but beatific smile. "Well, you certainly are your father's daughter, Thalia."

That stung. There was something resembling pride in Beryl's eyes. She'd never looked at me that way before. "Teddy?" called Thalia. She frowned at me. "You're not upset are you?"

"No. I'm just gonna do my homework," I told her.

Thalia made a face. "_What_? We've been kicked out of school and we _still_ have to do homework?" I chuckled at the face she made.

Was I that disoriented that I lied so poorly? "I mean, I'm tired. I'm going to take a nap."

She shrugged. "I'll wake you up for our favorite show." Then she left for the living room while I headed to our shared room. I was pretty sure I had the same powers as her. The problem was stimulating it. Thalia had been angry when she used it but I wasn't angry at anything right now.

Just a little ill with jealousy.

I set my bag on the ground, beside my desk and pulled my pencil case out. I fished inside for my metal ruler and placed it in front of me. I tapped it alternately, due to my ADHD, I simply must move; even if my fingers did all the movement to remove pent-up energy.

I closed my eyes and concentrated, reaching into myself, searching for the "sensation" Thalia had described when she saw electricity sparking. I was about to nod off when I felt my right arm going numb. My eyes flew open; the tips of my fingers were tingling. I stared as blue electricity danced around my open palm.

I was so fascinated that I didn't realize Thalia had been storming down the hallway to our room until she threw open the door so hard the flimsy wood bounced off the door. The tugging in my fingertips disappeared completely as my concentration loosened. I turned to scowl at Thalia.

"You've got to see this," she said, her jaw clenched tightly. She looked angry.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Did they cancel the show?"

"It's a man," she snapped in response, blue eyes flashing. "He claims to be our father, Zeus."

**:: :: ::**

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><p><strong>[AN]:** Anything can happen in Greek mythologies, is all I'm saying and Hera doesn't seem to be above doing that. So, the result is obvious since a lot of people voted for boy. Thanks for all the reviews, guests or not.

**Question:** Do any of you know other PJO SI's? Also, tell me what you think?

**Review!**


	3. ii

**Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan**

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><p><strong>Your Saving Grace<strong>

**Chapter 2**

by GaleSynch

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><p>"I've visited when the both of you were younger, I doubt you remember though." The King of Olympus flashed us a nervous, hesitant smile from across the dining table where he sat beside our mother; Thalia and I sat on their opposite. Evidently, Thalia had not given him a positive welcome if his actions were anything to go by.<p>

Well, what had he expected? Hugs, cookies, and identical cries of "Daddy!" as we ran to greet him? I snorted mentally, in his dreams maybe. Did he even know his kids? Sorry. I probably sound too bitter to be healthy. Ignore this.

I studied him curiously. "I do... remember you," I admitted quietly and his eyes shifted to rest on me. I squirmed in my seat, nervous. "Are you really Zeus? We heard about him in Mom's Greek stories."

"Not stories. They're real, Teddy," said Beryl, her eyes warning me not to piss my father off. I knew that without her saying it. He was dangerous. I was pretty sure Tantalus was a son of Zeus and he had not hesitated to punish the man; granted that asshole killed his son and cooked him.

"Teddy?" repeated Zeus, smirking. I let out a small groan. That name was anything but heroic. If I were to really go down in myths, I would hate to be known as Teddy Grace. I shot Thalia a dark look: this was all her fault, she was the one who came up with it in the first place.

Thalia smirked at me, obviously enjoying my embarrassment. But then she recalled it had been our absent father speaking and she scowled darkly. "Where's proof?" she demanded, rude enough to earn a noise of discontent from Beryl.

"Its lunchtime. Have you eaten anything?" he asked us instead.

Thalia and I exchanged glances; we barely knew our father so we didn't know how to act around him. I said, feeling wrong-footed, "No, sir."

"What would you like?"

"I'm assuming you're not going to cook," I muttered. The thought of him wearing Mom's pink apron with a teddy bear on top of his pinstriped suit was too much. I ducked under the table, I'd been holding off my laughter so hard I thought I'd cracked two ribs already.

"Teddy!"

"Sorry, Mom. I was practicing sarcasm to use in real-life situations," I replied as I straightened, returning to my seat.

Zeus cast me an odd look. "We want cheeseburgers and fries and Coke!" Thalia piped up, drawing his attention away from me. I had a feeling he didn't quite know what to make of us.

"Done," he said, flashing a smile that revealed straight rows of teeth—_note to self: brush teeth more often_—as he snapped his fingers. What Thalia requested was present before our eyes; the scent was heavenly. Without anymore hesitation, we dug in. "Are you two... well, aware of what you are?"

"A boy and a girl," I replied drily as Thalia was still busy chewing. The noise she made was one of agreement.

"Thaddeus Hades Grace, I did not raise you to be so rude," said Beryl angrily. She had been served steak and she was eating it with, well, _grace_. Our father was not eating, I noted. "He meant if you know you're similar to the heroes in the bedtime stories I told you."

Thalia spoke, "You mean those heroes? The demigods?"

Zeus nodded. "Yes. The both of you are demigods." His eyes did not say he wanted us to jump up and down in ecstasy that we were related to him and famous mythology figures.

His confirmation made everything seem so much real. My stomach churned. I picked at my fries, Thalia was slurping her drink and even Mom had stopped eating. "Um," I said softly, "Didn't Hera sort of... curse all of them?"

Zeus sighed. "Yes, my wife does not... favor my children."

"That's a mild way of putting it," Beryl sniped and I refrained from rolling my eyes as I took another bite from my burger. And she told me to be polite.

Zeus ignored that, but his brows furrowed. "You named my son... Hades?"

I'd just found out recently and my father's reaction was similar to my own. "As a way to appease him," responded my mother dryly. "If naming someone a specific name can appease someone, I don't see why not. Thalia's middle name is Amphitrite, after your other brother's wife."

"Beryl, dear, I do not think it's wise to throw those names out so casually. Names have powers," he added, glancing at my twin and I to make sure we understood the significance of his sentence. "Do not use it lightly."

"Yes, sir," we said.

Mom looked slightly offended. "But you said your brother's name so casually."

"But I'm me," our Dad responded, brows climbing to his hairline; he seemed mystified that he needed a reason to do whatever it was he did. It made me smile. "I can do it but neither of you should."

"But we can," noted Thalia thoughtfully.

"Still, it is not advisable. I have a pretty good idea as to what my brother will do and it would not be pleasant." Zeus refilled my glass of Coke absentmindedly, nodding in the same manner when I murmured my thanks. "Thalia, Teddy―" Dad's lips twitched into a smirk at my indignant look but Mom's stern gaze made me keep my mouth shut. "―the both of you are nearing the age where monsters would attack."

"Like, the Minotaur, Furies, sphinx, and―"

"Whatever monster you can think of, yes," interrupted Zeus, pulling a mace canister and a choker with a lightning-strike pendant from his breast pocket and placing it on the table. "Which means you would need weapons to defend yourselves with. For the record, only Celestial Bronze can harm monsters. They won't work on mortals."

I reached tentatively for the mace canister but Thalia beat me to it and snatched it off the table. "I want this one," she declared. She cast the choker a look of distaste: she was not a very feminine girl.

"No way," I hissed, nudging her with my foot. "I'm not taking that accessory!"

"Stop arguing," said Beryl. She was studying the accessory. "You're pretty enough to make a fashion out of it, anyhow, Teddy." I groaned. I wanted my Mom to praise me but not my looks. Handsome? OK. Cute? Acceptable. Pretty? Embarrassing, especially in front of our father who was the epitome of manliness. "Put it on," she encouraged, smiling and whatever protest I had in my mouth died away.

Zeus was smiling; I was surprised that it made me feel warm, safe and protected all at once. It had been awhile since I felt that way so acutely. I knew lives for demigods were dangerous from the moment I found out, I'd always lived with that like a cloud hovering over me. Or to be more precise, a shadow that I could not detach.

"You quite resemble your older half-sister Helen, the most beautiful mortal of all time," commented Zeus. "I suppose this comes from your mother." Then he flashed his mortal lover a grin that was too brilliant to be accepted.

Beryl blushed.

Smooth, dad. Appeasing me and flirting with Mom, smooth.

I took it and examined it miserably. Even as a girl in my past life, I hadn't been too hung up on accessories. I prefer a watch. "Thanks, Dad," I said, shooting Thalia the stink-eye.

"This doesn't seem to be bronze," she said.

"Well spotted," I grumbled, examining the choker. Was it even one? There was a leather cord and the pendant dangled listlessly before my eyes. "Dad, how is this a weapon?"

"The mace canister is a spear. You just have to press that―ah, that's the one, Thalia," explained Zeus once he removed himself from the dewy-eyed stare between him and Beryl. "The choker is a saber. Pluck the pendant and spin it in your hand―once is enough, Teddy―voila."

Thalia marveled her spear, eyes wide with awe. I could tell she had an affinity with it. And as for my saber... It was bronze, extending even to its hilt and guard. "It's... nice. Who's going to teach us though?"

"All heroes learn themselves," said Zeus. "Or, you will be taught by Chiron at Ca―"

"Zeus," said Beryl, cutting into the conversation; her voice was surprisingly chilly. "I thought we wouldn't be sending them there so soon?"

Zeus glanced between Thalia and I; we were waiting for more information, eagerly at that. "Can you two run along? Feel free to practice in the playground, there is a force that prevents the mortals from seeing the truth of the world, they won't be alarmed by the sight of real weapons. Don't injured one another and don't talk to strangers. Your mother and I need to talk."

And just like that, we were dismissed.

We knew that he was not asking us, but ordering us too. My twin and I marched out of the room and down the apartment. We lived pretty high up, I assumed this was because Zeus could watch us better this way.

True to Zeus' assessment, no mortals questioned us. Thalia jabbed experimentally at me with her spear; she did it curiously, not with real strength so I just let her have at it. "Ow," I said just to appease Thalia when she scowled like she wanted me to keel over and bleed. "We should do things slowly."

"Like in slow-motion?"

"Yeah, in case we hurt one another. Once we're used to it, we can go at it quickly."

Mechanically, I deflected her spear, ducking as she swung it at me. She overbalanced and stumbled, yelping. I reached out to steady her. "What do you think Mom and Dad are talking about?" I asked.

Thalia frowned. "You're calling him Dad?" she demanded. "You sound so accepting!"

"What should I call him then?" I rolled my eyes. "He's our dad whether we like it or not so we better start calling him that. He seems OK," I added, seeing the question in my twin's eyes. Years of being together had taught me what sort of person she was. I could usually guess what she was going to say.

"He doesn't seem mean, I suppose," she conceded. Her face clouded with bitterness. "I wish he'd stay longer though. Or visit often."

"He sends child-support checks," I pointed out. "Remember Emily? She keeps coming to class with bruises. Her dad abuses her. I heard he got arrested recently. I think our Dad is much better than Mr. Miller."

Thalia grunted, seeing my point but not willing to admit it. "Why do you think he came back?"

"...Maybe he misses us as much as we missed him?" I suggested halfheartedly, unsure as to why he came back as well. My thoughts was mostly compromised of wishful thinking though. "I dunno. I'm just glad he came back. When do you think we can go back in?" The last thing I wanted was to walk in on them. We might disrupt Jason's existence and get horribly scarred for life.

I will never look at boys or girls the same way—ever.

Fortunately, Thalia sensed that I did not want to go back so soon. "Let's practice more. This is cool. Definitely way better than playing on the swing."

So I put distance between us and readied my sword. I'd only watched people fighting with weapons like these in movies and they had stances like these... I think... yeesh, you'd think Zeus would give us handbooks about these but no, he left us to our own devices.

My twin and I spent at least two hours mock-sparring and an hour jogging and at least half-hour playing the playground before our father came to get us.

"Go home," he said simply, as if we had been stubbornly maintaining our desire to stay here. It was the end of October and I was starting to grow very cold. My hand was held by Thalia, in an effort to keep heat between us. "Children, take care of one another and your mother."

"We always do that," said Thalia. There was a pause as I tried to tug Thalia back to the apartment complex. "Are you leaving for good now?" My sister asked quietly.

"No. There is a high chance you will see me again." Zeus ruffled our heads. "Goodbye." And, like many years before, he disappeared into thin air.

Thalia suppressed a sniffle. I was surprised by that. I squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"We expected too much of him," I whispered and together, we head back home.

**:: :: ::**

We were going to have a new sibling. That thought excited me so much I could barely keep the grin off my face. Thalia was eager but mostly curious, she didn't see the appeal as much as I did. The best thing? Beryl was more sober than I recall and she kept a steady job for the following months in the morning.

Thalia and I were also shipped off to a new elementary school.

We still have dyslexia and ADHD; we excelled in gym. I did well in arithmetic since it involved counting and there were few struggles to read. Art was also a class I did not suffer multiple headaches in.

Naturally, we still got into fights even though I kept intoning to Thalia to keep it at a minimum or pick fights once we were out of the school grounds in case the teachers caught us.

If we beat the crap out of one another outside school, the teachers had no say in that. Because, technically (and I love technicalities), we were out of school so school rules were meaningless.

Thalia fought to defend us and to vent her anger. I did it to test myself against them. If we couldn't beat mortals, what chances do we have against monsters?

The first time we encountered a monster—a hellhound—Dad had been there, his presence warding the monster off. The second monster was a Cyclops but it just glared at us with one eye and stalked off. I had a sinking feeling it was Poseidon's spy. I did not approach, even though I wanted to kill it before news could reach the sea god about our existence.

Did I mention how Zeus was a bad secret-keeper?

The nine months waiting while Jason got bigger and bigger in Beryl's womb was peaceful, idyllic and I was content, happy even. Thalia and I had gotten through most of the school year without getting expelled, a couple of detentions were nothing to sneeze at and we weren't even hauled into the principal's office! Was that not a good accomplishment or what?

Newborn Jason was not a pretty baby when he was born. He was the size of a loaf of bread; pink, purple and wrinkly with a small tuft of blonde hair on top of his pink head.

I laughed at the expression on Thalia's face when she saw Jason for the first time: she had been severely disappointed.

"Don't worry, Lia, he'll be cute when he grows up!"

**:: :: ::**

Beryl was in the hospital for a couple of months so, with the money Zeus had given her, she hired a babysitter to cook and clean for us. This was good because we could order the babysitter to cook whatever we wanted to eat and she must do it.

It amazed me that I'd only noticed how she looked like after she'd been working at our house for three months. Her eyes were different; no mortals would have such eyes: flame-colored eyes, flickering minutely with kindness, warmth, power and love. It was the last day of her work when I decided to comment about it.

I figured it would be pretty safe to do so since she had shown no harm towards us before. "You're not mortal." I started the conversation by saying that. Tactless? Maybe.

Tia Hess was her name. She looked about eighteen or so, with mousy brown hair framing a freckled, pretty face and kind eyes. Her smile could lit up the whole room. She always pulled a smile from Thalia and I; this was an amazing feat since Thalia didn't smile often.

"No, I'm not. How long have you known?"

"Just a few days ago," I admitted sheepishly. "I'm not very observant, I know. It's dangerous for a demigod to be so unaware, is what you're going to say, right?"

"Something along those lines, yes," she agreed. "For my last day here, I've pulled out all my stops!" she chirped, clapping her hands and plates of my favorite dishes filled the dining table. She'd given up the pretense of being normal. I should've known something was up the first time she prepared our demands so quickly.

"Thank you," I said.

"I'll get your sister," said Tia. "Sit down and enjoy your meal."

Thalia came down shortly and the both of us waved Tia away. I watched from the window as she flickered in and out of existence before disappearing altogether. "Teddy, I'll finish your share!"

"Not so fast, Lia!" I flipped the curtains close and ran back to the dining room, eagerly anticipating the chance to be able to hold my new brother.

**:: :: ::**

"Babies are fragile so don't be rough," warned Beryl from where she was sprawled lazily on the other couch, apparently exhausted. Thalia and I were sat side-by-side, squashed together in an armchair as I cradled Jason. If we went according to tradition, Thalia usually got to try everything before I did.

But Beryl seemed to think I was more careful and gentle than Thalia so I got the honor of holding my brother first, something that Thalia sulked about for a total of three minutes before she came to sit beside me.

"Let me hold him next," she hissed into my ear.

"He's asleep," I said. "Be careful." Despite my reservations, I handed Jason over. Then I turned to assess my mother's health. "Mom, are you OK? You look very pale."

Beryl squinted at me. "It's just the artificial light, darling," she assured me. She glanced at Thalia and Jason.

"What's bothering you, Mom?" I persisted.

A flash of annoyance passed Beryl's eyes; her lips were pursed tightly in displeasure. I thought she was going to yell at me when she said, quietly, "I didn't get to choose my youngest son's name."

"Jason is a nice name," said Thalia, tickling Jason's cheek, intrigued.

"Not if it's to appease that she-demon!" hissed Beryl with surprising vehemence. Hera was a subject we never touched since she could sent Mom into a raging fit―I didn't think both ladies would appreciate that they were both very similar. Mainly because she had what Mom wanted: Zeus, immortality and eternal beauty. Jason whinged in discomfort, as if sensing his mother's displeasure of his name. I hoped this wouldn't affect how she treated Jason.

Beryl's expression softened a tad when Jason sniffled.

"Where's Dad?" asked Thalia. "Has he held Jason yet? Did he visit you in the hospital?"

Beryl's lips curled in disdain. "Who do you think named your youngest brother?" she huffed, slumping back in her seat. "I don't even know when he's coming back. Dropping by after seven years just to knock me up again... as if the first time isn't bad enough."

Thalia glanced up, startled. "What? Are you saying we're― Teddy, tell her!" Her vocabulary wasn't very large.

"We're inconveniences, are we?" I finished for my twin. I wouldn't deny that it stung.

Beryl scowled darkly, as if we were idiotic for even needing to ask. "I was in the prime of my career!" she cried. "I would've been the next big thing if you two hadn't come knocking!"

"Knocking and knocked up," I mumbled. "Nice pun."

Thalia made to stand but recalled Jason's weight was pulling her down; she roughly dumped him in my arms. I nearly dropped him when he started screaming as his older sister leapt to her feet, glaring at our mother. "Lia!" I reprimanded but she ignored me.

"Well, if you hadn't fallen for Dad like so many other harlots did, you WOULDN'T be in this situation," Thalia growled.

"Thalia Amphitrite Grace! YOU DID NOT JUST CALL ME A HARLOT!" Our mother shrieked; Jason's cries were deafening. I stood and hastily made my way to my bedroom; my mother and sister were going nuclear on one another but Jason would only make things more chaotic.

"Shh," I tried in vain to calm him but he kept crying. His cheeks were red and wet with discontent. I closed the door, but the walls and distance didn't completely muffle the argument going on in the living room. "Shh, don't cry, Jason. Big brother's here."

Truth was, I wanted to leave Jason there and pull Mom and Thalia apart before they could rip one another to shreds. But letting Jason cry till his throat tore did not seem to be a nice big brother thing to do. I couldn't sing to my life and I would sooner be caught dead and be caught singing.

But, I read somewhere lullabies calmed babies.

So, swallowing my pride and embarrassment, I coughed out a few notes: simple nursery rhymes Beryl had sung for Thalia and I when we were kids. Somehow, amazingly, it worked even though it left me with a scratchy throat.

"You have a nice voice," said a throaty voice from the doorway.

I jumped. "Mom!" I exclaimed, careful not to startle Jason. The baby was asleep; he looked so peaceful I didn't dare move for fear he'd wake. "Where's Thalia?" I asked. Then I caught the hurt in her expression: she thought I didn't care about her. "I mean, how are you?"

"Thalia ran off after we argued." I felt a momentary stab of anger and resentment towards Thalia for making our mother's voice crack. Beryl Grace had abandonment issues, she was fragile in her own way. Her career started at the top and went downhill from there. It was too much, it broke her in a way that I could not comprehend. She had no steady job and she had three kids to raise while she pined for the father of the children. I wished I had a few drops of water from the River Lethe to help erase her memories of Zeus. "I'm OK, Teddy."

"Mom, when are you going to call me Taylor?" I asked, trying to sound annoyed but sounding exasperated instead.

She smiled a watery sort of smile. "You can be the greatest hero and you'll still be my Teddy."

My chest smarted with emotion. She would never live long enough to watch what sort of demigod I would be. I might not live long enough to be anything she'd be proud of.

"I'm going to find Thalia," I said. "I'll leave Jason in the crib, is that alright with you? He's asleep so he won't cause so much trouble."

Beryl nodded, stepping away to allow me to pass.

On impulse, I grabbed her wrist and squeezed her hand in reassurance. She returned it; but surprised me by pulling me into a tight hug. "You're a good boy, Teddy."

Something was wrong. I felt like she was saying goodbye.

I offered her a sad smile and left the apartment.

**:: :: ::**

* * *

><p><strong>Question:<strong> What sort of person do you think Teddy is? What do you expect of him?

**Review!**


	4. iii

**Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan**

* * *

><p><strong>Your Saving Grace<strong>

**Chapter 3**

by GaleSynch

* * *

><p>"Lia, it's cold out here. Let's go back already," I coaxed, voice gentle even though I was severely annoyed. I stared, half-exasperated and half-amused at my twin sister who sat at the end of the slide in the playground: her knees were pulled to her chest and there was a petulant pout on her face.<p>

So cute. My siblings were beyond adorable. Annoying though, but I guess everything has a downside.

"No," she said. "You can go back to that woman if you want, I'm not going."

"Lia, that woman is our mother."

"So?" She scowled. "She doesn't act like it." My twin was right but I decided that agreeing would not make things easier.

"There are kids way worse off than us," I tried.

Thalia cast a wistful look at the pedestrians. "Wonder what it's like to be like them," she murmured. I heard her though. I glanced in the general direction was looking: a mortal family, father, mother and child.

"Well, we might never have been twins for one." I paused. "I might not even exist." That, as far as I knew, was true.

That thought seemed to have made an impact because Thalia spun around to face me, springing to her feet and seizing my hands in a tight grip. I leaned forward and our foreheads rested together. "Don't," she said, voice thick with emotion and that was how I knew her argument with Beryl had been more soul-cutting than I'd initially assumed. "Don't say that. I don't think I can stand being with her in that house without you or Jason."

"Say you're sorry," I suggested.

"No!" I knew her answer even before she said it.

I nearly rolled my eyes. "Jeez. She won't do it either. You two are too alike for your own good."

Thalia wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I won't end up like her," she said stubbornly. "I won't resort to alcohol just because some guy left me."

I blinked. "Heh. I thought for sure you were gonna say something along the lines of, _'I don't need men to complete me'_ or something."

"Dummy, I need _you_ for my life to be complete."

I blushed but couldn't deny that sentence made me feel a myriad of positive emotions: several stages of love and gratefulness. I guess I didn't realize how much I relied on her for my sanity―for her to be my pillar of support.

"Love you, too."

**. . .**

The atmosphere in the house was tense for awhile. Mom and Thalia skirted around one another; they answered normally to me but I felt like I was making very forced conversation whenever they were both in the same room. Jason was the only one who seemed unaffected by this.

It wasn't until a fortnight later when Zeus finally paid us a visit.

Or Jupiter. I didn't know. I couldn't tell; outwardly, they appeared the same.

"Good evening, Dad," I greeted, balancing Jason on one hip. He nodded, glancing at his youngest son.

"May I?" Even as he spoke, he was already reaching for the blonde baby who studied the newcomer interestedly. I handed him over, removing my hands only when I was sure Zeus had my brother in a secure hold. I guess millennia of having so many children had made him an expert when it came to baby-handling. "Hello, Jason," he said stiffly though he seemed perfectly at ease when handling the baby.

"I think Mom needs you more than Jason does," I said quietly, trying to get him to make Mom feel better. I was pretty sure she was in depression.

"I'll talk to Beryl. Where is your sister?" Zeus' electric blue eyes swept around the room.

"Why?"

His lips tightened briefly at my bold questioning of his orders―something I was sure he did not like. "I think it's prudent for babies to have a breath of fresh air. You and your sister can take Jason out for a walk." His tone made it clear it was not a suggestion.

"OK." I opened my arms and accepted Jason as Zeus passed him to me. Jason sniffled at the change of arms. I felt a tad insulted that he would prefer our dad to me but shuffled into the kitchen where Thalia was preparing dinner.

Tia Hess had taught us a few tricks and we can prepare a couple of simple meals now. I was usually in charge of making breakfast and washing the dishes; Thalia made lunch and dinner.

"Who was―?" She broke off when she saw Zeus entering after me. "Oh, never mind." I looked pointedly at her; she sounded less than polite. "We're having curry tonight," she informed me.

"Mm. I think we're missing a couple of ingredients." I gave her the barest of winks.

Thalia caught the hint quickly. "Right. Let's go to the supermarket."

"Spend wisely," said Zeus as he passed Thalia a couple bucks.

"I love Jason, really, but we don't need another baby in the house," grumbled Thalia as we exited the apartment, starting for the elevator. "We're having a hard enough time taking care of Jay, can you imagine needing to feed another needy baby?"

"Jay isn't very demanding," I pointed out, wincing as Jason tugged experimentally on my hair; his grip was abnormally strong for a baby. "We should count our lucky stars he's so easy to calm down."

"Yeah." Thalia offered me a little smirk. "We just need you to sing."

"You promised not to tease me," I complained. "Or bring that up for the matter!"

"I'm your big sister, it's my job to tease you."

"You're not older than me!" I protested vehemently. "We were born at the same time."

"No thanks to Hera," she said snidely.

I glanced nervously around. As I'd kept little secrets from my twin sister, I'd told her about that nighttime visit the goddess had paid us. Till this day, I was waiting for divine retribution just for being born. But so far so good.

Wait. Did I just jinx myself? I wanted to smack myself but since I was holding onto a squirming Jason, there was little I could do to punish myself. "Names have powers," I murmured vaguely, recalling the first time Zeus had told us that.

"I don't see how," said Thalia as we stepped into the elevator. She jabbed the button with more force than necessary. I took inventory of the small, cramped place. Thalia was keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the elevator doors: she didn't like heights. It had something to do with Beryl dropping Thalia here, once when we were still babies. I'm 90% sure of it.

This elevator held a few fond memories of our childhood. As four-year-olds, when Beryl brought us out to the movies or just to the park near the apartment complex, we'd always rushed ahead of her and bicker about who had to lift the other high enough to press the button.

Thalia always had her way.

Then, before we left, we'd leave a little souvenir by littering candy wrappers or by pressing every button and cackling as the passengers grumbled incessantly. Some even cussed at us but Beryl always managed to cuss them out. Our mom had her awesome moments. I was seized by a terrible sense of wistfulness as I remembered how Ms. Grace spiraled into her own destruction, unable to make amends with her children.

I didn't want my mom to end up that way.

"Teddy, you coming? Stop daydreaming!"

I stepped out of the elevator, mind racing.

**. . .**

For everyone's sake, I tried my best to be happy, or at least appear normal. But I think I'm failing terrifically because even Mom had stopped me in the hallway and asked me if something was wrong. Yeesh. If our 24-drunk mother had noticed something was wrong, I might as well be parading around with a huge sign proclaimed in red, "Help me!"

Jason was seventh months old and had been crawling around energetically around our apartment these days. All three of us children of Zeus slept in the same room. I felt resentful towards Jason at times when he would wake Thalia and I up at an unholy hour by screaming and crying in hunger. Sometimes, I entertained the thought of smothering him with my pillow―or Beryl for dumping us the job of raising Jason.

We might as well be Jason's parents—the boy and girl who took care of him. I hoped he would be old enough soon for us to clear the misconception: he seemed to gravitate towards Thalia and I more than he did to Beryl.

In fact, I had seen very little interactions between them. Odd since Beryl had been fired for missing so many days of her job. Since Thalia and I had school to attend, Jason would be left with our mom.

I knew Thalia was uneasy about that fact; I was, too, since Beryl seemed more and more unstable. Her cheeks were permanently flushed red from the amount of alcohol she forced upon herself.

We knew why.

Our shopping trip on the last day we saw our father ended very early the moment we overheard our neighbors―two old crabby old ladies that resembled one another so much they had to be related―talking about how "an unruly couple about to divorce". Our other neighbors were happily married and no arguments would be occurring between them anytime soon.

So it had to be Zeus and Beryl.

They were screaming loud enough for us to open the door without being detected. Most of the screaming was done by Mom though, Dad had just raised his voice to make himself heard or to interject at a few intervals.

Thalia and I exchanged frightened glances. Jason was toying with my hair, pulling harshly on my blonde curls but I barely paid him any attention.

"―two sons and daughter! And this is how you REPAY me?!"

"Beryl, I came not because I wanted children. Thalia and Teddy weren't even meant to be born―Jason even less so." Thalia gasped. I was suddenly so glad Jason was too young to understand anything: being, essentially, told you weren't wanted had to have hurt regardless of how mature you think you are.

My heart smarted; my eyes stung.

"Oh, oh. So you're saying we're_ MISTAKES_?" Thanks, Mom. I really wanted to yell at him like that. "What are you going to do to them? Sending them to that WRETCHED place is no different than taking EVERYTHING away from me!"

"Beryl, be reasonable. Three children of Zeus in one household is _suicide_, Hades already knows. And I can't stay here. I'm the king of the gods, I must set an example and I've broken this rule too many times."

"You can't be serious! You came back, you can't leave me here again―_alone_!" Our mother practically shrieked. I shifted Jason uneasily. Thalia was uncharacteristically stiff.

"You won't be," said Zeus and he sounded beyond stressed. I wondered why. Was he sad that he had to leave her? Or was he finding her to be bothersome and he can't wait to get away? "The kids are there for you. Thalia, Teddy and Jason―"

"And what about you?" Beryl's voice lowered dangerously; she sounded on the verge of breaking apart. I took a step forward but Thalia seized my arm, shaking her head empathetically: this was not a battle I could interfere with. "I gave you three children. Two sons! Don't _I_ get to be happy?"

Thalia's fingernails dug into my arm. Beryl had not mentioned Thalia. My twin never gave the impression she wanted our mother's attention much but being the least loved could be hurting, too.

"Don't you love me?" Mom continued in a broken whisper.

"I loved all my mortal lovers, Beryl, in my own way," he responded, voice tender in a way he hadn't shown me or Thalia. I wondered if Mom'd feel better if she knew this. "But this... this is to be expected. I have my duties on Olympus."

"Why can't you take me with you then? I don't deserve to be abandoned after all I've given you. You're the king of the gods! Immortality and eternal beauty―it can't be _that_ hard for you to grant, Zeus!" Beryl cried.

I couldn't imagine Zeus' face but I thought he could've been gritting his teeth in frustration. "You've given me a wonderful time and three beautiful kids, I love you even more for that. But who would care for the children? You're their mother, you're all they have."

"You made Ganymede immortal!" Beryl screamed, completely bypassing the question he posted; I heard footsteps approaching and I looked up into my father's stony face. I took an unwilling step back, wrenching Thalia to my side to make way for him. "How am I different from _him_?"

Zeus did not grace her with an answer; he shot me a particularly uncomfortable look. Your dad's bisexual and has a male lover and everyone knows that. How do I react?

I stared stupidly at him, Jason was oddly silent and even Thalia was gaping at him. As expected, Thalia was the first to unstuck her throat. "You're leaving?" she demanded incredulously, over our mother's renewed sobs.

"We will meet again, not very soon, but someday. I can foresee that much."

I felt a lump of renewed anger building in my throat when he strode past me. "What, not even a hug?" I asked, voice sagging with sarcasm and bitterness I could not hide.

The footsteps stopped. Thalia was glaring at our sire, eyes blazing with unshed tears and hatred. We both knew our mother would not be able to take this. This would be the final straw.

Zeus' face was oddly blank. "Open your arms, Thalia, Thaddeus."

Startled that he'd used my full name, I extended the arm that was free of my brother's weight. Thalia obeyed, albeit hesitantly and scowling as she did so. It happened too quickly, too suddenly for me to process it properly but Zeus embraced us. Thalia went so stiff in his arms that I thought she'd turned to gold.

I realized I wasn't much better; I gripped my father's pinstriped suit tightly, uncertain, and the lump in my throat threatened to dissolve into tears. Jason cooed, reaching out to pat our father's face. Then, just as abruptly, Zeus pulled back. "Stay strong," he said and walked out of the open doorway.

He didn't even smooth his suit.

I sobbed.

**. . .**

Jason's first birthday passed without celebration but with a couple of disasters. In the past few years, Beryl had at least bought Thalia and I out for movies, or cakes at a cafe, amusement parks, or to the seaside for a vacation. That woman did not seem to care that our paternal uncles were out to get us and thus, the beach was a very, very bad place to hang out.

Someone had called earlier: our mom had passed out somewhere and the speaker told us to retrieve her.

Thalia and I bickered about who would deal with our mother. "You go," I said, frustration building hot and red behind my eyes; I felt a headache coming on. "I'll take care of Jason. He likes me better."

"No, he doesn't!" cried Thalia passionately. "I don't want to be lumped with that irresponsible woman!"

"Show some respect, sis!"

"Ted, I want," said Jason.

"Later," I told my brother irately as Thalia yelled, "I'll show respect when she starts acting like a real mother!"

I snarled and retorted angrily. Thalia was red-faced, screaming at me when a new sound pierced the air: Jason screaming. I was stumped for a moment. I looked down. Jason's mouth was smeared with red, his lip bleeding profusely. He was crying very loudly.

"You go get Mom, I'll deal with his injury," said Thalia, snatching this opportunity as I was stumped by the fact I had been a horrible older brother.

Numb with that unexpected blow, I wandered to the kitchen to retrieve the pile of cash we kept in the topmost shelf. In retrospect, I thought grudgingly, I was probably the better choice. Mom had been pulling crazy stunts lately and I hated it when people started whispering when an eight-year-old kid was the one who came to retrieve her. I just knew they'd ask questions.

Then the familiar, disparaging look of pity, and occasionally, the offers to enter foster care.

My cheeks were slightly hot when I exited the cab and saw a circle of people. I knew instantly that my mother was there. I shoved through the crowd, hissing cusses and uncaring of how many feet I trod on.

I just knew I needed to get my mother out of here and back home.

**. . .**

I was practically dragging Beryl out of the taxi and up to the elevator—still mortified by earlier events as I balanced my mother's weight, she could barely walk straight. By unspoken agreement, Thalia and I traded our charges. She fostered Jason—who was sniffling, pouty lips red—onto me. "It's going to scar, isn't it?" I murmured, brushing my index finger over his lips.

My lips quirked. Some things, it seemed, would never change.

"Ted," said my brother. "Hurts."

"It'll go away in awhile," I promised, placing him in the crib.

"Wanna play catch," he demanded.

"Sure." I smiled, trying to distract him from the raised voices in the living room. I'd learned to leave those two at it. They were too stubborn for their own good and if I interjected, they'd just turn their ire on me: not good at any rate. I brushed that thought away and concentrated instead on the toy blocks strewn around the room.

I'd practiced the powers I had whenever I got the chance to.

Unlike Thalia who didn't bother much. I think it had something to do with her wish to be mortal, an ordinary kid, that made her ignore her abilities. To keep up the illusion of normality, she'd rarely played with it until I challenged her (which was the only way one could get her to jump into things eagerly).

I channeled the buzzing feeling in my arms to the tips of my fingers, drawing on the slight breeze coming in through the open window for help. I directed the wind to sweep the blocks up; they danced tauntingly around Jason's head. "Five points for Block A," I called out helpfully.

Jason let out an excited squeal, jumping to catch the aforementioned block. I'd move it out of his reach but I'd relent when he started pouting and let him win.

This was killing two birds with one stone: I could train and he could be entertained.

I was just letting Jason poke and prod the "blue firework"—electricity sparking between my palms—when Thalia stormed in. She scowled. "Stop that. What if it hurts him?"

"We're children of Zeus. We're immune to electricity," I responded but I let the sparks died, looking pointedly at Thalia when Jason let out a low whinge. "Want a drink?" Even as I spoke, I was already pushing her a cup of cold, orange juice. Her expression softened as she accepted the glass and downed it in one go.

I decided to neglect mentioning how Beryl probably drunk her alcohol in the same manner. "I can't stand her," said Thalia angrily, nearly slamming the glass down on the table.

I spun in my seat. "Mm." I sounded disinterested because she said that every time they argued.

"I'm thinking the three of us should leave."

That was new. I stopped spinning to look at her: she was perfectly serious and she assessed me for a sign of protest. "What? You can't be... that's crazy!" Technically, I was an adult but even though I'd emancipated from my parents, I'd still lived under a roof. Living a nomadic lifestyle and needing to constantly worry about when the next meal will arrive... it did not seat well with me. "Just because you can't stand Mom doesn't mean we have to leave. Just ignore her."

"I can't!" Thalia exploded. "Do you know what they say about us? About Mom? They call her a whore!"

"Not in front of Jason!" I hissed, cheeks splotched red with anger at the memory. We'd been recently expelled for getting into fights in school. Mom had cared little about how we'd beaten a boy twice our size so badly he had a concussion and was in the hospital and the boy's parent had called her a few unflattering names.

I'd electrocuted that woman. It was history though.

"I'm ashamed of her," said Thalia miserably. "Why can't she grow up? I feel like _we_'re her parents!" I glanced away, I agreed and I was similarly frustrated. "I was just thinking we can leave to teach her a lesson. Once we're not here to take care of her, we'll see if she appreciates us more or not."

"That sounds like a good plan," I muttered. "But Jason's too young. Maybe in a few years."

Thalia huffed and stormed over to our bed, crawling under the covers and proceeded to ignore her brothers. I caught mutters about 'idiot' and 'jerk' but chose not to comment.

"Lia sad?" asked Jason, perturbed in his own way; his lips were pushed into a pout.

"She'll come around," I promised. "Because we're family."

**. . .**

* * *

><p><strong>(Updated: 3 December, 2014)<strong>

**Question: **Regardless of slash, race or gender, who do you think is compatible with Teddy? It doesn't necessarily mean there'd be pairings though I do wonder if people would want a sprinkle of romance (it won't be the center of the story though).

**Review!**

...


	5. iv

**Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan**

* * *

><p><strong>. . .<strong>

**Your Saving Grace  
><strong>by GaleSynch

**Chapter 4  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Happy birthday, Jason!"<p>

My little brother let out a delighted laugh as sparks ricocheted from my fingers to the spot above his head, showering him in sparks; the scent of ozone permeated the air. It still amazed me sometimes that I could do just by grasping for the feeling of buzzes in in the tips of my fingers.

The prize I would have to pay for this powers always pop the inflation of my elation. I hated feeling so torn-up over a simple ability sometimes: to be able to control the winds and electricity and the price was an early death.

"Here you go," said Thalia, breaking me out of my reverie, smiling as she handed our brother a hastily-wrapped present. It was better than my attempt which consisted of newspaper and concealing a box within a box and continuing in this vein until Jason burst into tears ... sadistic? Maybe, but there was no denying that it would be fun.

"I've got the cake," said Beryl listlessly, entering the living room and handing each of us a slice of cake. Thalia accepted hers with a stiff gratitude and our mother flopped down on the remaining couch without a word.

"Say thank you to Mummy, Jason," I prompted. I'd came to accept the fact that—sadly—I would have to be the one to teach Jason politeness. Neither Mom nor Thalia were very polite and living in a world where you'd constantly encounter touchy immortal gods who could smite you with a bat of their eyelash, it would be too easy to offend them and get yourself cursed.

Jason's brows furrowed. "Why?"

"Because it's only polite," answered Thalia in my stead. "Now say it."

"Hypocrite," I muttered under my breath; my twin heard me and she elbowed my ribs painfully. I retaliated by pinching her.

"Thank you, Mummy," said the son of Jupiter obligingly.

Beryl smiled painfully: there was something off about her today. I squinted at my mother, trying to spot whatever was wrong. I'd inherited a lot of my looks from her: blonde ringlets that fell to frame an oval-shaped face, slightly upturned nose, thin lips and less-prominent cheekbones. Only my eyes were similar to my father's and, by extension, Thalia.

I wrinkled my nose, unsure if I should be unhappy or glad that I'd still looked girly enough to pass as a girl. I went for gender-neutral clothes in contrast to Thalia's punk-style.

I felt that no one would believe us if we said we were conjoined twins: we were just too different. It was a good thing or else we would've throttled one another long ago.

Mom didn't wear makeup, not unusual, she was beautiful without it and she knew it. She was nearing her thirties but she looked younger; she was barely nineteen when she gave birth to Thalia and I. Thinking about how young she was when we were born made me wince: not every girl could cope with that, especially since she was a TV star.

"Mom, have you been losing sleep lately?" I asked.

As furious as Thalia was with our mother, she still darted a glance at Beryl to make sure she was OK. I refrained from rolling my eyes. "I'm thinking about taking a vacation... as..." She sounded strangled. "You know, to celebrate Jay's birthday."

I grinned, glad that she was making an effort. "That's wonderful! When are we going?"

"Tomorrow, I think."

Then she left the living room, stumbling as she did so, beer bottle clutched tightly in hand.

Thalia cornered me after that. "Something's wrong. I don't think we should go on this trip. Tell Mom to stop."

"Why?"

"Because Mom likes you best," said Thalia, the bite of impatience in her voice not entirely masking the bitterness.

"No," I said, deciding not to reason with Thalia about that: I didn't think Thalia would buy whatever I said when Beryl talked more to me than to Thalia. My twin didn't seem to realize that it was every attempt at conversation Beryl made was shot down or ended in a spectacular argument that pushed those two further away from one another. "I meant what makes you think that this is a bad idea? Jason's happy!"

"Teddy, I know you very well."

I arched a brow in challenge. "Really." Thalia was smart, but I felt that she didn't really know me as well as I knew her.

"Sometimes... you're... delusional." Her voice cracked; I stared. "You only see what you want to see. You know Mom's losing her sanity and grip on life and you chose to ignore it. You know that this is a bad idea but because you want to believe everything's alright, you don't acknowledge it. We should've left Mom to her own devices years ago!"

"Lia, you say that, but you're as selfish as Mom," I piped in angrily. I did not react very well when I was criticized; my obituary would never say I was an open-minded person or one who openly accepted his flaws. "You think it's easy to always be on the run? That's naive. You want to run because you want to be free of responsibilities— how different is that from Mom?" I saw hurt flash across her electric blue eyes and instantly felt guilty. "Thalia, I —" She cut across me.

"Save it, Teddy." Her voice was thick, eyes bright with unshed tears. Or it could've been the artificial lighting from the ceiling. Oh, wait. Thalia said I was delusional, always trying to make things look bright despite the real situation. Fine. She wants realistic? She looked like she wanted to cry and I was sure my stony expression was part of the reason. "You and Mom can go, but I'm not going."

"Even if it's to make sure we're OK?" I asked, voice tight. My face screamed, _selfish!_ but I kept the thought to myself. My patience was running thin. Thalia's expression clouded with bitterness.

"Sis, something wrong?" asked Jason, looking away from the television when electricity cackled in the space between our glares.

She did not answer. Thalia kept up a stony silence for the rest of the day, seriously putting a hamper on Jason's day because the two-year-old kept asking about her. "Leave me alone!" said Thalia as she slammed our bedroom door.

I scowled. "Ignore her, Jay." Jason sniffled, unused to such harsh treatment from his beloved older sister. Me? I was used to her explosive temper. "I'll read you Greek myths about our dad," I offered and he toddled over.

My anger melted and I smiled, wishing that Mom and Thalia could be here as well.

We started the next morning with a stormy mood: Mom slammed the door shut once Jason and I had left. Thalia stuck to her decision to not follow even though Mom had insisted (for reasons beyond me). She was right. There was a sense of foreboding within me that warned me against following Mom. Above us, the sky was grey and cloudy: a storm was coming.

I got into the backseat with Jason who looked quite upset about Thalia's absence but because our mother was already in a bad mood and mentioning our sister's name would only worsen her mood, he kept his mouth shut. Smart guy with good instincts; he'd live a long, healthy life.

"Mom," I spoke tentatively as we exited the car. "Are you sure about this? It looks like it's about to rain." Not that I would be averse to that. I love this sort of weathers: wind drawing my hair to dance a ballad in front of my face, lightning flashing—Dad watching over us.

"Don't worry about it, Teddy," said Beryl; she was facing away from me.

Thunder rumbled, rolling in the clouds. Jason made a noise of discomfort, shifting in my arms. He was obviously ADHD as well. "Scary," he mumbled. "Want Lia."

"Never be scared of thunder, Jason," said Beryl, reaching over to take him. Jason glanced at her curiously, as did I, Mom rarely initiated contact with her youngest child. "That's your father telling you he loves the three of you. See?" Lightning was flashing, the sky seemed to be rumbling in agreement. Back turned to me, Mom said, "Teddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you go get the picnic basket for me?" She requested sweetly.

"...We're having a picnic? I thought this was just an outing... a walk around..." I glanced around. There were very few people around here. A couple jogged past us but otherwise, no one but the Grace Family. Unease crawled up my chest and settled there.

"_Thaddeus_," she said.

"OK, OK," I mumbled. "Don't get your panties into a twist over that." I shrugged off my hoodie and handed it to her. "Jason's just wearing a thin shirt. This should warm him up." Wind blowing my shirt, I turned and sauntered back to the car. I scowled when I realized she hadn't locked the car after we left—then chided myself for not noticing earlier, what if the car was stolen? I glanced in the window, noting that the seat beside Mom's usual seat was empty. But the car boot had nothing either.

Ice curled in my gut. I didn't even bother closing the car boot before I took off running. "Mom!" I yelled. "Mom! Jason!" I plunged through the trees, ignoring how many roots I'd tripped over as I took the shortcut to where we'd chosen as our picnic spot.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

A faint, distant memory was trickling back alongside panic: of Jason being taken away by Juno and how it was the final straw for Thalia. "Mom!" I burst through the trees, a sob caught in my throat. The picnic blanket was devoid of anything and it seemed to be on the verge of being blown away. I ignored it. "Jason!"

I was about to run right into the forest when my mother stumbled out, noticeably alone. "Where's Jason?" I demanded, voice tight with barely controlled panic.

"Gone," she whispered hollowly; her cobalt eyes were bright with tears. She suddenly reminded me very much of Thalia. "He's gone. He's dead." Then she broke down sobbing, unable to even stand, she sat down at the stone steps.

"What!" I yelled. "Who took him?!"

_I'm the champion of Juno_, Jason had introduced himself as in the books.

Hera.

I let out a frustrated scream; electricity rolling off me in waves.

That was when the skies started pouring.

**. . .**

It took awhile to coax Beryl back to the car and by the time I succeeded, we were thoroughly soaked. She was wiping tears and the rain created a ruckus as it pounded on our car. It was a dangerous weather to drive in but Mom drove anyway: when had she ever listened to me? Scratch that, when had _anyone_ ever listened to me?

"How are we going to tell Thalia?" I muttered. Then felt ill with guilt. I'd been worried about what Thalia will do to _me_ once she found out about this instead of worrying about what will happen to Jason. I slumped forward in my seat with a groan. "I'm a terrible brother."

"No, Teddy," said Beryl; she was looking at me through watery eyes instead of keeping her concentration on the road. "You're a good brother. You did better than I did." There was a sort of fiery pride in her eyes that made me deeply ashamed.

"Mom, tell me— what happened?"

Beryl's knuckles were white on the wheel; she shook her head. "He's as good as gone in that she-demon's hands."

"So he _was_ taken away! Why did you give him up?" I knew it was unfair to unload all the blame and anger on her but I wanted to badly punch something. I wished the school bullies lurked around our neighborhood; I could've used them as a stress-relief.

"I have to," Beryl sobbed. "Zeus was right. Three of his children in one household is too much." She did not elaborate so I assumed it was our scent that was getting overbearing.

The drive back home was silent. I didn't cry because I knew Jason would turn out alright in the end but my heart ached. My arms were empty without the comforting weight of my brother and my ears rang in the deafening atmosphere lacking my baby brother's laughter. I thought about Thalia and worried about Mom. Beryl had gone oddly quiet as we reached home: her face was blank and her hand was cold in my own as I guided her to the elevator and up to our apartment.

"Thalia?" I called once I'd unlocked the door. No one answered. She wasn't still mad was she? "I'd make you a drink," I told Mom as I moved into the kitchen.

Mom was silent, accepting the mug of coffee without a word. I knocked on the door. "Lia?" No answer. I turned the doorknob and looked inside. "Thalia?" My heart stopped: there was no one in there and the bed was made. I noticed my pencil case pressing onto a note.

The handwriting was terrible but I knew it was my sister's. I hoped it was a note telling me that she'd be going to a grocery store, but no, no it wasn't. It was a hundred times worse. If I thought I couldn't feel anymore devastated, I was about to be proven wrong.

_I'm leaving. I can't take Mom anymore and you're absolutely right: I am selfish. I want you to come with me but I didn't think about how you'd feel. I know you're probably tired of my arguments with Mom and since Mom isn't leaving anytime soon, I get it: I have the solution, I'm going out in the real world to grow up._

_So I'm going alone. Don't bother coming to find me. Take care of Jason. I love you._

_Love,_  
><em>Thalia<em>

I stared, read the note again and again and again, feeling as if the world had been torn from beneath me in a span of seconds.

**. . .**

I wanted to run after Thalia but there was Beryl to think about and I didn't know how long it'd been since she left. So I sat in the living room, beside my mother, and waited for the rain to stop for me to enact my plan.

"Where's Thalia?" asked Beryl thickly. Her voice was slightly muffled as she had her face cupped with both hands.

"Gone. She ran away from home."

Beryl sobbed and before I knew it, she'd wrapped me in her arms and clung to me, sobbing her heart and eyes out. I held onto her as tightly, trying to comfort her: losing two children in one day could take its toll even though she didn't seem to care much.

"Teddy, Teddy, you mustn't leave. Don't leave me alone... I can't take it..."

Mom cried herself to sleep.

I was an adult in a child's body, I didn't need anyone to comfort me, but I allowed myself to think of how selfish Beryl Grace was: she asked me for comfort without thinking whether or not her son needed the comfort.

Like I said, my feelings towards my mother was complicated.

I (liked to) think she loved us in her own way, but she also hated us for ruining her career and life as well. I felt the same: I loved her for giving me a second chance at life but I hated her for being such an irresponsible mother that required me to be her parent.

But I also knew I couldn't abandon Thalia. Beryl acted like a child but she was an adult; Thalia was the real child who needed comfort. I need to get Beryl out of my way, in a safe place where she wouldn't be harmed by herself or Hera, then only will I be able to look for Thalia without being weighed down by worry.

The answer came to me in a dream.

**. . .**

Beryl was—completely—sober when I said, "Mom, I have a clue where they took Jason!" Then I started explaining the nature of demigod dreams to her. She bought it completely: Beryl was never the best when it came to being a lie-detector and I cropped lies between truths.

We booked a plane for Las Vegas and flew there the next day. I have absolutely no idea how I was going to get back to Los Angels but just in case, I'd packed clothes, provisions and money. The last was particularly important because this whole operated that way.

Conveniently, Mom knew nothing about what I'd packed.

The destination I had in mind? Lotus Hotel and Casino.

Mom had never heard of it. I had no idea where it was either, it was never properly described in the books. The cabbie was getting fed up with us but Mom's icy glare was enough to get him to keep us maneuvering around the city. "Mom, keep your eyes peeled. We can see through the Mist. You knew who Dad was on first glance, didn't you? Just concentrate on the aura he radiated."

"Turn left," Beryl said abruptly.

"Uh... that's a dead-end," said the driver.

"Drop us off there," she ordered.

The cabbie did as told and dropped us there; he looked quite upset that we didn't give him the amount of tips we'd implied we'd give. I offered him an apologetic grin: I needed all the money I had. "Is this place, Teddy? The one you saw in your dreams?" asked Beryl, sounding uncertain for the first time. "A hotel. What would Jason be doing here?"

"Don't ask me how the mind of immortals work," I said, slipping my hand into hers. I tugged her forward and we entered the hotel. I prayed that I'd be able to get out and I wouldn't get too distracted.

The entrance was a huge neon flower, the petals luminescent and blinking continuously. No person was seen entering or exiting, yet the sparkling chrome doors were open. I wrinkled my nose at the scent of lotus blossoms filling my nostrils. I stole a glance at Beryl and saw her eyes glazing over; her cobalt orbs flickered about, taking in the place.

The welcoming doorman smiled. "Depressed? Not to worry—we can cure depression!" The worst thing was, he sounded so sincere I was terribly sorry I had to leave. He ushered us in before I could protest.

"Whoa," I said, which summed everything I saw. The lobby turned out to be a cavernous game room, games of every genre available: I could've spent years here and I wouldn't be able to finish playing everything! From the corner of my eye, I saw a water-slide which stumped me: there was a swimming pool in the middle of the lobby?

Before I could examine it, a bellhop approached us with a kind smile. "You look exhausted, kid. Mother and son, yes? I suppose you would want to be in the same room." He handed Mom the key and she took it gladly.

"Those look worth checking out, Teddy," my mother muttered distractedly. She was absentmindedly sampling a biscuit. "Mm. This is really good. You should try one, Teddy."

The waitress standing beside her flashed me blinding grin and I felt my cheeks heating up for reasons beyond me. I accepted the biscuit with a thanks.

"Here are your Lotus cards," the bellhop spoke, drawing my attention; he pressed a green, floral card into my hand. I examined it while Mom turned hers around in her hands. "If you have any problems, call the front desk. Welcome to the Lotus Casino," the man said with a wide grin before walking off to tend to other visitors.

The waitress was watching me with piercing eyes so I pretended to take a bite, trying to keep a clear head.

I wanted so badly to play those shooting games. I was sure I would ace it. "Come on, Teddy," said Beryl, laughing gleefully, as she dragged me further into the Lotus trap. I cast the exit a look of longing. "Let's enjoy ourselves!"

She'd completely forgotten about our purpose for coming here: to look for Jason, which was good for me because I'd lied about the whole thing.

If Hades thought this was a safe enough place for his kids, this place was definitely safe enough for Mom.

"Uh, Mom, I wanna go for a round... at the, er, water-slide. I'd see you later, OK? Go—" My breath caught. I coughed violently, prompting Mom to turn back to study me quizzically. "I mean—goodbye, Mummy."

Surprise flashed across her beautiful face—a face that would not be marred by age as long as she remained here, determination reinforced within me when I recalled that this was the best solution so far—for I had not called her by that term of endearment since I was a baby.

She was smiling sadly. As if she knew I didn't need her any longer even though the Lotus Flower was starting to take effect. Soon, very soon, she'd forget she was ever a lover of Zeus, she'd forget her children and former life: Beryl did not have the strength of character as Percy did to break free of the Lotus Dwellers, I knew it. "Goodbye, Taylor," she said, using the name I preferred the most for the first time since I could remember.

The fake smile was getting too painful to maintain: I darted in the direction of the swimming pool, glancing back and saw that my mother had been swallowed by the crowd, I couldn't see her any longer.

"What's with the tears, young man?" asked a kind, womanly voice and I turned to see another waitress with bunny ears.

My hand flew to my pendant, ready to draw it if necessary. "I'm—I'm not crying!" I protested. "I just... want to take a swim." I mumbled lamely.

"The swimming pool is over there," she offered, pointing to where about three dozen kids were splashing one another. She flashed me another smile. "Here, have a flower."

"Thanks." I stomped on the flower viciously the moment she was gone and before my mind could be completely tempted by the games and comforting life I would kill for, I took off running.

"Hey, kid!"

If anything, the bellhop's voice made me run harder. "Wait!" he wailed, sounding so heartbroken that I was leaving I felt guilty and tempted to stay.

I electrocuted myself to stomp that thought. My body was mostly immune to it, but I jarred myself by setting sparks off in front of my eyes. Good thing: I was anything but tempted to stay. Bad thing: I was seeing black spots, I could barely see where I was going.

The glass doors were so close— thirty feet — I dived out of the way and came up from a roll as the bellhop made a wild grab for me, he hollered for help and I saw several others rushing towards me — I kept running, ten feet— someone snagged my arm, I twisted and kicked his crotch, ducking a hard swipe and ran— five feet—

I summoned the wind, panicked at the thought of being trapped here forever, and a huge gust of wind from behind gave me the momentum I needed: I lurched forward, nearly flying out of the hotel.

Those Lotus Dwellers did not pursue; the chrome doors closed upon their icy glares. I breathed heavily, laying flat on my back on the street.

I did not cry, I did not cover my face and sob. I most certainly did not. I checked to make sure I had everything I needed: my weapon, the saber in Mist form hung constantly from around my neck: I was ready to leave.

I didn't know a lot of things despite my knowledge about the books but that was it: it was all about Percy and details about other demigods' life prior to the events taking place in the series were scarce at best. I remembered that Luke and Thalia found Annabeth in Richmond.

Had she even met Luke yet?

My stomach churned, I remembered that my sister had been on the run for two years before a satyr found her. I could do better. I'd find her this way.

Dad, I prayed, guide me to Thalia, please.

My back—years ago, I had been intimately connected to Thalia—throbbed and I took off running.

**. . .**

* * *

><p><span>Answer to guest reviewers:<span>_  
><em>

**Guest:**  
>If you want to see Taylor paired with Eros or Will, why did you think it was weird when you suggested it?<p>

**Electra:**  
>I've set up a voting poll. So vote there. :P<p>

**Guest:**  
>Taylor has ... self-delusional issues and he's pretty adaptable. It's partly explained in the first paragraph. About his fear of monsters, he worries, but he doesn't let it hang over his head always; he's content to live out this brief reprieve before worrying about his life. He's got to start facing it in next chapter though.<p>

**anna:**  
>Thanks! XD<p>

**Guest:**  
>I think ate up your reviews. I don't get the full message you're trying to send.<p>

**Guest:**  
>Hm, not sure about Annabeth. I don't really like Percabeth but it's an important part of the story, isn't it? Even if Taylor exists, how can he affect Annabeth's or Percy's attraction to one another unless he actively pursues one of them? And Taylor won't be making changes to things he feels should stay the same.<p>

**Smartybrains:**  
>Taylor might not be able to stand her, lol. Thalia's a separate matter, Taylor may think Clarisse's too obnoxious for his liking.<p>

**Guest2:**  
>We'll see about those two you suggested. :P<p>

**AvidReader98:**  
>I'll def finish this story - since the PJO and HoO series are done anyway, so there'll be nothing uncertain. I'm really glad you like his character, lol.<p>

**Grecianvalley:**  
>You gave tons of suggestions: still, remember to vote!<p>

**Moreplease:**  
>No, you can vote in the poll. If the immortal choice is majority, there'll be a separate poll. Thanks for reviewing. :P<p>

**Guest:**  
>Good point. n.n<p>

* * *

><p><strong>-0-<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Who saw that coming? 0.0<em>

_About the pairings, I haven't made a decision yet. You can vote in my profile for the choices available there._

**Question:** Whose lives do you want to see saved?


	6. v

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything you recognize. Well, except for Taylor, of course.

**Your Saving Grace  
><strong>by GaleSynch

**V**

**.**

"Kid." I looked up from the menu, blinking languidly. The waitress was scowling suspiciously down at me. "Are you sure you have the money to pay?"

"Yes," I answered, mildly annoyed at that tone and look she was giving me.

"Where're your parents?"

"Aren't you here to take my order?" I snapped; my stomach growled. "I want the breakfast special."

The lady opened her mouth to argue but another waitress approached us. Her name-tag read: LAME. I assumed this was my dyslexia because there was no way a mother would name their daughter this way. "Come now, Annie, just let the kid eat whatever he orders."

Annie the waitress tossed me a distasteful look but stormed off to do as told. I snorted, closing the menu and pushing it to the remaining waitress. "What're you looking at?" I asked defensively, unintentionally sounding rude. But I didn't care: I hadn't had the best sleep, the asphalt was not a good bed. I didn't even know where I was.

"Oh, nothing dear, I was just thinking what beautiful blue eyes you have!" She chirped, eyes flickering. I blinked. "They're bluer than the Aegean sea—your father's eyes, I believe!"

My blood ran cold. I looked up and gape: her eyes were the first to change. Her irises expanded, glowing dark green. Her pupils narrowed into serpentine slits. She extended a hand and immediately her fingers shriveled and hardened, her nails turning into lizard-like claws.

"What sort of monster is called Lame?" I asked stupidly.

"Lamia!" she howled. "My name's Lamia!"

"Sounds like lame, I get it," I mumbled, glancing around: the mortals didn't even seem to sense something was wrong. I reached for my pendant, ripping it off and in an instant, a three-foot long Celestial bronze saber was in my hand.

Lamia struck, I parried but her strength was overwhelming: she sent me tumbling over the table and onto the ground. I yelped in pain as she gripped the table and lifted it, intending on slamming it down on me full-force. "Yes, we'll have demigod pancake!"

I scrambled out of the way.

I wanted pancake and maple syrup, not some Zeus-flavored snack, which would be made of me so I wouldn't be able to taste it anyway.

I marveled at demigod ADHD: I still had time to think stupid thoughts like these and I was impressed with myself. The truth? I was spouting rubbish in my mind to stop myself from panicking completely. This was a real fight; this was a real monster; I could really die.

Not even a day out on my own and I was already attacked, I thought bitterly. And I had no backup and no help and no means to heal myself if I was injured—wasn't this an ideal situation? I climbed onto the seat and jumped to the other booth. The mortals yelped and scattered, finally noticing that something was wrong.

"Sorry!" I cried as I scrambled to the entrance-exit. This tiny cafe was too crowded for me to fight properly.

Sadly, my luck was not good enough for me to make it. Lamia screamed in rage and threw herself at me. She tackled me to the ground and I hit the ground hard; pain flared from the front of my body. My grip on the saber did not relent; blindly, I reversed my grip, stabbed and twisted my saber. A howl and the sound of soft flesh hitting cement told me I'd sliced her arm off. Black powder poured from her wound instead of blood.

I bucked hard enough for her to arch off the ground. I twisted and swung my saber. The scene that took place would be recurring in my nightmares: my saber slice through her head and off, her head falling onto my chest and the rest of her body evaporating into black powder that rained down on me.

I spat a mouthful of dust out of my mouth, staggering to my feet, weak-kneed from the fight.

I'd won. Unbelievable.

But I had more pressing matters than marvel that I'd beaten a monster.

I saw the mortals staring in horror at me: "Someone, call the police!" cried a woman. Those nutters probably saw an axe-wielding kid killing a waitress.

I ran for it: breakfast would have to come later.

.

It wasn't until the first snowflake fell that I registered my birthday would be soon. I'd been on the run for a couple of months (days, weeks, years, did it matter?), losing track of time, running from the authorities and monsters. I would be ten soon. Or twenty-nine if you want to be technical.

I was lonely.

I'd also taken to practicing controlling air, mostly to levitate items out of stores or from hawkers for food, necessities and clothes. My existence was very pathetic: I bathed occasionally in public toilets using the pipe and I realized then I'd hit all times low.

Barely ten and I was starting to think I'd seen every sort of monster there was in Greek mythology. It wasn't as bad as I expected, which worried me somewhat. Since they didn't focus on me, I feared Hades would concentrate on Thalia. I worried my lip.

I was relieved, of course I was, that he concentrated his efforts on her. Then I was worried sick: what if something happened?

"Argh! Poop!"

I jumped, backing away from the angry man in the business suit. I glanced at his feet and failed to suppress a snort. I was mildly annoyed: Hera had sent intestinal-challenged cows to bug me, nothing big, I just happened to step on cow poop once in awhile. It was funny in a way but the stench often clung to me and made mortals give me wide berth.

I didn't get why the gods could curse heroes so easily and they couldn't help their kids as easily.

I sighed, lots of things didn't make sense to me. I wish Dad had given me a guide on how to be a demigod. Or at least a map. I have no idea where I was; all I knew was that I was out of Las Vegas. Was I even in the same _state_ anymore?

My heart ached, I missed Mom, Jason and Thalia. It was sad, the Grace family of four had broken apart, each member in different parts of the country. I had a vague destination in mind: San Francisco. If I could go to the Roman Camp... but what repercussions would await me?

I was Greek, not Roman and the Lares had the ability to sniff out _graecus_ scum as they'd so kindly put it. Best case scenario: I was killed and head placed on a pike. Worst case scenario: they tortured me or ... I dunno, something bad.

"What're you staring at, kid? Hit the road!"

I grinned and sauntered off, turning down the street. I'd quite forgotten what it was to be an ordinary mortal: a human who could enjoy life and just worry about how many zits I'd have on my face. Speaking of appearance, my hair was getting too long for my liking.

I'd stolen a cap to cover my face though. Just a week ago, I had snatched a lady's handbag and flew away from the mortals. I had no idea what the mortals saw but I left it up to the Mist to decide that they saw. However, just in case, I hid my face as much as possible.

I was not above thievery if it meant survival.

It was just... a very lonely and sad existence filled with—

The howl of a hellhound rent the air, the mortals around me didn't even blink at that sound— I let out an annoyed growl. A life filled with monsters: not cool as it sounds. You think it's fun to keep running every mile and see a monster or concerned adults stopping you then calling the police on you?

Those Roman kids had it so much better it _wasn't_ fair.

Suppressing a sniffle, I turned and charged straight for the hellhound. Life as a demigod, the sooner you face it, the better.

.

I was at a beach: a freaking seaside, the sun was beating on my fair skin. How the Hades did I get here? Last time I checked, I was in the state of Utah. I'd decided to just head for Camp Half-Blood which was somewhere in Long Island. I'd covered so much ground because I had harnessed the wind spirits to lift me into the skies: flying drains me easily but it was much better than walking. I had also taken to sleeping on rooftops, because the chances of being mugged by mortal beggars was much-lesser.

I shuddered as I recalled the last time I had a run-in with a mortal.

They were much harder to fight because my saber did little against them: I could just intimidate them with it, stun them enough to electrocute them into oblivion.

"Over here, boy," said a man's voice.

I jumped, whirling around to see a man somewhere in his thirties: he was dressed in a Hawaiian tea-shirt and he was holding a fishing rod like a sword. "Hey," I greeted lamely then looked around. "Is this a dream?"

"Yes, it is," he answered; I turned to look him in the eye. His eyes, I noticed, were a brilliant shade of sea-green. The brightest and prettiest shade of green I'd ever seen: I liked it. "Thank you, I think your eyes are something to stare at, as well. But they're too much like Zeus's for me to be comfortable thinking they're beautiful."

I gaped at him, horrified. "You can read minds?"

"You were being very blatant in your staring," he responded, lips quirking. "Do you know who I am?"

"Lord Poseidon?" Belatedly, I sank into an awkward bow. "Sorry. I didn't notice until now. Is there anything I can do for you?" I flashed him the most pleasant smile in my arsenal even though I was nervous as heck. There was no saying what he could do.

"I just wanted to see Zeus's children for myself. Hera's in a royal snit, she's out to get you, just so you know. Very recently, I saw her looking down at you and your sister from Olympus. You don't look like Zeus much."

"Is that bad?" I asked.

"No. But it's what inside that matters," said Poseidon, eyeing me critically. I didn't know what he was thinking. "I'm assuming you look like your mother."

I nodded. "I think so, too. Dad's much more... oh, manly." My expression soured at the many mistakes mortals had made. If it wasn't kid or brat or rascal, it was _hey, girlie!_

Unexpectedly, my uncle chuckled, startling me. "It is to my belief that is why Hera despises you so much: a physical likeness to embody her husband breaking his vows. Beware, she sends monsters only the strongest of heroes have slain before."

My heart hitched. "I... thank you... for tipping me off. I owe you one?" I hoped he wouldn't ask for something impossible.

He sent me a piercing look. "I will claim my debt someday." Then he, along with the dream, dissolved and I woke in cold sweat. I didn't stop to admire the night sky and the stars twinkling down at me.

I grabbed my bag and did what I had perfected into an art form: I ran for my life.

.

I was jumpy the whole way out of the state of Utah. I wish I had enough money to buy airplane tickets but no, I spent most of it on food and the occasional rest house. I'd '_borrowed_' a couple of bicycles but not cars, I was too young to pull it off and getting arrested was not very appealing to me.

By now, I'd committed so much thievery I might as well be a son of Hermes.

I'd woken up at dawn and now, it was way past noon. I was tired but I couldn't find a relatively safe place to rest. I considered sleeping in an abandoned alleyway but a police officer walked by, gave me a suspicious glare, and I took off running down another lane.

I sat down, legs aching from hours of walking and running and heaved a sigh. I massaged my legs through my worn, ripped-up jeans as I wondered how my family was doing.

Thalia had probably met Luke by now. Jason was still training and Mom was enjoying herself in the Lotus Hotel and Casino. Basically, I was the only one in trouble, stranded and without help. Granted, it would seem as if I was enjoying myself since I took the time to check out historical sites, museums, gift shops and shopping malls (in search of clean bathrooms) or just to kip out under a roof.

I was slightly pissed that there were no satyrs that could sniff me out when the monsters found me like, routinely, every three to four hours, one would pop up. The worst sort of fights were at night when I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes opened and I just passed out on a swing—I'd woken up to a hellhound slobbering my face with saliva. Those satyrs were useless! Ugh—

Screams erupted from all sides.

Bewildered, I sprang to my feet, ripping my pendant from where it rested and felt the familiar, comforting weight of my saber in my palm the next second. I waited, tense.

Cars horned and pedestrians were running in every direction, panic spreading among them. I gaped: finally, what monster had caused such chaos showed itself. It was a boar—at least I think it _is_ a boar—but it was nearly fifteen feet tall, its tusks were as long as oak trees.

Its angry, red eyes zeroed in on me.

My ADHD mind wondered, off-task, why animals always froze in pure, unadulterated terror. Wouldn't it only be the right action to run? I reminded myself that I was acting like a cornered animal in those sort of situations and right now, I couldn't run, I was rooted to the spot.

Why? The hopelessness that engulfed me was the answer. I only had a vague idea about what monster this was and I already knew that I couldn't beat it—not alone, so what was the point in running? Wouldn't it be easier to just get it over with?

"It's a boar!" a teenager cried.

I backtracked quickly, tackling the blonde teen as the boar charged at us. We dived into the alleyway as the pavement cracked where the boar had thundered through. "You!" I gasped. "What sort of animal is that?" I demanded, eyes wild so I probably looked like a lunatic to him.

The teenager looked thrown. "It's... it's not normal..."

"I get it, genius!" I yelled. "It's from Greek myths! What is this monster called?"

"Well," he spluttered. "There's the Erymanthian Boar Hercules killed, there're couple of sows and one boar from the Calydonian Hunt."

Something clicked. "The last one— didn't it took a hundred of hunters to kill?" Ice spread into every pore of my being as the teenager nodded.

"Wait, that thing— it can't be the one from the Greek stories!" So he was mortal. No demigod could live to such age. I didn't grace him with an answer. Not that I didn't want to: it was the fact that the Calydonian Boar came charging into the alleyway.

I seized the teen and concentrated: I shot off the ground and into air, trying valiantly to not drop the mortal. But I was too drained to do anything more than move us out of the way. We fell, bumping on air, until we landed painfully on top of asphalt.

"Get out of here!" I shouted.

"What about you?" he asked, eyes wild. He probably wasn't used to flying kids popping up.

Fighting was a no-go; it was too quick and strong for me and I certainly did not look forward to getting close to it. My saber was like a toothpick next to it. The mortal took off running; I turned in another direction and ran that way. I didn't turn to look or falter in my steps but I heard the Boar plowing down buildings like it was nobody's business.

This was not a heroic thing to do: ignoring the mortals' screaming and fleeing when the Boar would stop after it had gored me into demigod-sauce.

_If I had something that could help me_, I prayed silently, thinking of Dad and the hug he gave me the last time I saw him; _something that could get me close to the boar and avoid getting trampled at the same time, I could help._

Nothing happened at first. But then I heard thunder clapping and lightning flashing above head; ozone filled my nostrils and cackling electricity prompted me to turn to my side to see what was happening. There was a mini storm happening: dark storm-cloud bodies and manes crackling with electricity, I saw what seemed to be horses within the tornado.

I extended a hand, gasping for breath; I felt my fingers tingle—pins and needles—as an invisible crack like a whip sounded an the storm-spirit neighed, kicking its legs but unable to free itself as it became more corporeal. I jumped, pirouetted and landed on its back. The storm spirit when crazy, I felt my head splitting in ache—the spirit's chaotic thoughts colliding with my own panicked thoughts—and the only thing keeping me on the creature was the whip made entirely out of pure air atoms.

"You're mine now," I told it and tried to believe the words with every fiber of my being. If I faltered, my control would slip and this chaotic spirit would not obey me.

Dad had given him to me. He'd answered my prayers for help: the rest was up to me. Electricity rolled off the storm spirit in waves, energizing me; he was a good partner.

The familiar sting of electricity got my head into the game; I turned to see the boar bearing down on me. Thinking _this is suicide_, I nudged the horse and despite its reluctance, it charged right at the larger monster.

The horse was not just a ride; every time the boar's hooves got dangerously close, it reared its hind legs (that nearly threw me off) and arced enough volts of electricity to send the boar rearing sideways.

We were still destroying the city by the way and I could feel the horse's impatience that so far, we only accomplished to not die. I couldn't talk to it like children of Poseidon could, but I could feel its thoughts: this spirit wanted pork meat. I had my reservations but dodging would not help.

I urged the horse forward, seizing the opportunity as the boar was still busy razing down the building to free its tusks; the horse skidded around, I swung my saber: severing its leg and blood poured like a fountain. The boar roared (maybe, it certainly didn't snort) in anguish, collapsing sideways.

I didn't know where to cut.

My spirit solved that for me by tossing its head, arrogantly, and looked pointedly at the boar's head. How'd you butcher a pig? I'd never pork in this entire life and I'd certainly never prepared it either. I jumped off the horse, shaking slightly, and told it to stay put as I approached the thrashing boar.

With a leap, aided by the wind, I landed on its neck and I stabbed downwards; it was cruel, I know, but I stabbed deeper and dragged it down, severing a third of its head.

But it was more than enough: the boar burst into bronze dust, raining down like confetti so celebrate my victory over it.

"Thanks, boy," I told the storm spirit and the burst of electricity it unleashed would've killed me if I was not a son of Zeus. "What?" I asked, startled. I though we'd bonded quite well. The storm spirit gave me its equivalent of, _You idiot!_ and realization dawned. "Oh," I muttered. "You're a girl. What should I call you?"

Before I could come to a conclusion, I was alerted by police sirens blaring. I mounted my storm spirit; my panic coursed through it and the she-spirit took off.

The world twisted and blurred together into blobs of colors as the storm spirit thundered away. Pretty soon, I glanced back only to see the skyscrapers of the city.

It was a couple of hours later that I came up with a suitable name.

Aellai; that was the name I'd christened the storm spirit with and from how she whinnied in agreement, she liked it. I rode on her back until night fell; we sped past mortal vehicles and I doubted they even saw what had outran them. My control over her loosened; she still disliked being bound in this corporeal form of a horse but since I had no destination in mind, it was chaotic enough to keep her going.

She liked running wild, you see.

Aellai neighed, drawing my sleepy attention. "Hn?" I paused, trying to decipher what she was trying to say. "I'm looking for someone... but if it keeps you happy, you can bring me to wherever for now."

Then I fell dead asleep on her back.

**.**

* * *

><p><strong>(AN):<strong> Well, the poll will be ending soon: the majority is the gods. But the runner-ups would be side-pairings I suppose; brief relationships that ended up nowhere.

Also, I've started a new PJO SI, about a monster!SI.

**Question:** How likely it is for Thalia and Annabeth to join the Dark/Titan side?

**Review!**


	7. Extra: Unsung Heroes

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything. / **Warnings:** This is not canon to the storyline. This is a birthday gift for Moka-girl and a spin-off the original story. Hope you enjoy! XD

**Your Saving Grace  
><strong>by GaleSynch

.

**omake  
><strong>_for the beautiful and awesome Moka-girl_

. . .

Taylor'd do anything to protect his loved ones, even if fighting evil means being evil itself. Taylor doesn't think he is evil, nor has he ever been cruel. He can't stomach cruelty, in fact, and he is always disgusted by those who kills others in the name of revenge or just because they can.

The son of Zeus has been puzzling how he can evade heartbreak on Thalia's part. Luke Castellan's the catalyst to the beginning. Gaia is rising. Time's ticking. Taylor can't hesitate anymore.

"Luke," he says, "can you accompany me for a moment?"

The son of Hermes looks up at him with innocent, blue eyes—they'd be gold someday and it enforces Taylor's belief that he is doing the right thing.

Luck is on his side: monsters attack the moment Thalia and Alabaster are far away enough. In fact, Taylor's half-baked plan goes off without a hitch. It's too suspicious and when the monsters continue to attack only Luke, even when Taylor is only ten feet away and he is completely ignored, he knows that there's some divine intervention going on here.

"Taylo—" Luke's ice blue eyes are goldgoldgold—and that color utterly sickens Taylor as he thinks of Kronos taking over the boy's body—and before he's aware that he's moved, he's slid his saber through skin and the gaps of the other demigod's ribcage, fascinated—no, sickened—by how easily skin can give away beneath his force. It's easy, once Taylor thinks of Thalia's face stiff with grief at his betrayal, and how he's wasted her sacrifice and chases her to join the Hunters. The pain of so many others in the future seems to be the driving force, not Taylor's hand, that pierces the organ beneath the left chest.

"That won't stall the repeating of history forever," comments someone cheerfully. Taylor starts and springs to his feet, saber brutally ripped from his sister's best friend's chest and spraying blood all over, to be pointed at the blonde male. Taylor's hands tremble. Luke's dead. There's no way this man can be— "Oh, I think you know who I am. But I'm incognito. Call me Fred, little champion of the Fates."

"Champion of the _what_?"

'Fred' dutifully ignores him. Something stirs in Taylor's gut when he sees how Fred is smiling even when his nephew is dying, dead. "I wonder what made them choose you," he says nonchalantly, "is it because you can kill however many people just to protect someone?"

Thalia's face flash to mind. Taylor narrows his eyes. "Nobody messes with my sister, nobody."

"I think we're on the same page, that's good. So, tell me, about this vision I see of my sister being chained and her tears?" His smile can kill.

Taylor knows who he is and he's surprised that he hasn't been struck dead for murder. But he supposes, disdainfully, that immortal deities don't view mortal lives as significant enough for Taylor to be punished. Or Fred sees the bigger picture. That he isn't protesting assures Taylor that he is doing the right thing: winning the battle with no war.

"Luke's dead," Taylor states, as if he isn't the one to ensure that, "so I don't think the Titans would rise anytime soon. It's Gaia we have to worry about."

Fred pushes his sunglasses away and his emerald eyes are extremely bright, Taylor notes. "I believe I'm obligated to help."

"Why?" Taylor asks suspiciously.

"You don't ignore a direct order from the Fates, man."

That's enough for Taylor to release some of his suspicions. "For now, I think I need to assure my sister that I'm not dead."

"You also need to put on a convincing act." Fred looks Taylor up and down. "Not even a single scratch. She won't believe you even if you're in tears that monsters have attacked you."

"What do you suggest then, _Fred_?" Taylor snorts derisively when he says that alias.

Fred seizes his arm, grip bruising his skin, and hauls him into the alleyway. Taylor's heart performs multiple somersaults as he struggles, suddenly aware that Fred towers over him easily and has already overpowered him. His half-brother's breath is hot against his cheek, on the shell of his ear, as he whispers, "There are monsters in humans and gods alike, you know? But, for the sake of argument, let's say I'm the former, alright?" Fred practically purrs this before his mouth covers his.

Taylor freezes, in sharp contradiction to what Fred can actually do, when he sheds that stupid disguise and name. Fred's teeth nip briefly at Taylor's lips, hard enough to draw blood and bruise his lips. Taylor's no longer moving but the other is: hands gripping his hips, biceps, covering any expanse of exposed skin, leaving scorching marks and —

Taylor finally wrenches away, electricity shredding air between them. His eyes are watery from the lack of breath and he's practically on fire.

He flees, Fred's laughter ringing in his ears, and the sensation of lips against his lingering.

Maybe it's because he can't blink or he's so stunned by recent events that Thalia actually believes that he's been traumatized. Lies tumble from Taylor's lips, awkward and halting, but Thalia's rage and grief pours over the words, melting them in the molten lava that is her grief, hatred and rage, she's screaming and raging and Alabaster's trembling.

Taylor does what he does best: he comforts her.

"It's going to be okay," he promises and it's the first sentence that is not a lie.

Thalia is clingy for the next few weeks and is frazzled by every stranger that glances their way. She jabs her spear in their faces when they come within five feet of the trio. It's not for another month before Taylor, already jittery and impatient to finish everything, sees his partner.

Fred grins good-naturedly when he sees him. "Yo, brother." He's not subtle when he looks Taylor up and down. "All healed up, I see."

"Thanks for traumatizing Thalia," says Taylor sourly, "she'll never believe in humanity ever again."

"Hey, it worked," says Fred, motioning for Taylor enter the crimson Maserati Spyder. Taylor does. Despite everything, he feels that he is safe ... at least, for awhile, in this entity's presence. Fred is bound by the Fates' order and Taylor is the Fates' toy. The boy knows that this is what he is meant to do: he can feel the certainty resting in his bones. Whether his ploy is futile or not, it is up to him to decide ... he _has_ to try. "Any detours?"

He means Jason. Probably. Taylor wants to see his brother, but only once he's succeeded. "I want a relaxing stroll in downtown Greece," he says sarcastically.

"Allow me the pleasure of showing you around," Fred returns cheerfully and Taylor can't taste the sarcasm as he revs the engine.

"Isn't this breaking the ancient laws?"

"The Fates set them," Fred points out. "If they send me here, that can't be breaking anything. Are _you_ on a quest?"

"No," answers Taylor truthfully, "I'm just doing what the Fates have intended for me to do."

Fred hums. "Want to hear a haiku?"

"Er, no thank—"

"Let me see ... _off to save the world_—"

"No!" Fred flashes him a cheeky grin.

Taylor would prefer it if they spend the trip in silence as the world speeds below them at an unnatural speed. He needs the time to plan. Apollo takes them to the skies, riding on the clouds. Fred's humming a tune that Taylor's never heard before but he suspects it's a bastardized version of a dirge. Taylor's lips tighten. "Can't our father see?" he asks instead of castigating his companion. "We're in his domain."

"Perhaps your patrons would be kind enough to shield us," says Apo—Fred, the first hint of uncertainty flickering in his eyes. The fact that he will be punished severely after the Giant War ends is enough incentive for him to do as Taylor suggests. Thunder rumbles. "Apparently not," he murmurs. "Hold on a sec, this'd be a hurling ride."

The illness that plagues Taylor is not caused by the ride on the sun chariot. It is Luke's face and eyes he sees in his nightmares. Taylor has been too preoccupied by Apollo to really think about Luke's death. By now, his body would've been found. Fred has promised that he's dealt with Luke's body but Taylor remains clueless to what he has done to the corpse.

Taylor does not regret anything though he feels some empty horror at Luke's death. Luke has suffered enough, he deserves the rest. He will be in Elysium, he will try for rebirth three times and maybe in their next life, Taylor can apologize properly.

Taylor is ashamed to admit he has no idea where to start and he has to rely on Fred to lead them. The whole world seems to be in darkness from the absence of the sun god.

"Is it alright to neglect your duties?" asks Taylor tentatively as Apollo offers him a cup of nectar.

"By now, someone will be offered a quest to find me," Fred says unhelpfully, "probably because Father tends to overreact. Oh, don't worry, I've put your traveling companions into stasis. Hecate's probably working overtime to cover up the loss of the sun. And dear ole' dad is probably thundering and sending rain everywhere to help. Ready?"

The abruptness of the questions raises Taylor's guard. "She's here ... beneath us?" Fear and uncertainty chase goosebumps down Taylor's skin.

"She can't manifest here, let's make it easier for her." Fred's suggestion is not sound in general for their safety but to complete the insane missions Taylor has assigned himself by taking a different route ... Fred takes Taylor's hand, stopping all the second thoughts.

Taylor wonders how things would drag out if he doesn't kill Luke. If he'd just wait and watch everything unfold the way it will in the books. What will happen if he lets someone else take charge and be the hero as they are meant to be. But that will make Taylor feel worthless.

He's been born here and he does nothing but watch and try to alleviate the severity of the situation? Perhaps that is his fatal flaw, the inability to step back, the self-importance that poisons his thoughts and his decisions. Fred's warm hand tells him that it is too late even if he wants to back out now.

Gaia's manifestation is weak. She cannot manage a gigantic form, she's just two feet taller than the sun god who is holding Taylor up as much as he is straining not to let terror conquer them both. Her eyes are barely open; her body and cloth are constructed of earth and dirt, there're mosses woven around her forehead like a diadem. Taylor's breath hitches: she's beautiful.

_What_, Mother Earth muses, _do I owe this pleasure of meeting the sons of the King that has stolen my son's throne?_

Taylor prays to Apollo that his sun chariot has grappling hooks. _It probably has_, murmurs Fred in his mind. It is not a reassuring answer. They both have walked on foot to lure her out and here she is and neither of them can act.

Taylor squeezes his brother's hand, trying to transmit his plan. One of them has to have the explosive power to utterly destroy her ability to manifest on the earth and it's obviously Apollo who has that power.

So someone needs to man the grappling hook.

Apollo's eyes flicker to Taylor and he nods imperceptibly. "I'll distract her," he whispers. "Dissatisfaction and plans to overthrow dad and all ... "

"Please don't let her poison your mind," Taylor begs, releasing his hold on his brother. "And the chariot is—"

"It's coming but it can only drive on autopilot. Every other feature must be manned."

In that instant Taylor turns, he notices the problem they have missed: an immortal cannot challenge another immortal. Taylor licks his dry lips. But 'Fred' is already approaching Gaia, laughing charmingly and spinning tales of sweet dreams and a glorious future.

Taylor runs for the chariot. He is glad that he is insignificant enough in Gaia's eyes that she doesn't even notice him leaving. Apollo does that: he dwarfs your existence but existing in his shadow has always been comforting to Taylor. The demigod does not waste time puzzling out how the chariot recognizes him and stops for him to clamber in but the car has many features he's never bothered to learn from Apollo how to use.

Always one to improvise, Taylor forms Stupid Plan 2.0.

Taylor summons a spear of lightning that strikes the spot where Gaia is. The earth rumbles threateningly. Fred stares up at him in disbelief. "Switch with me, hurry."

His brother's there—gold and yellow and urgent—in half a second. "What—"

"You can't challenge her, did you forget?" The Fates aren't about to make it any easier for them. For what is life without barbs and spears? Life can't go as smoothly as planned: it is a constant metamorphosis of pain and learning and suffering before reaching the desired outcome. Moaning about how unfair it was is not a feasible route: fair is getting what everyone wants and Taylor has to work to get it.

Apollo knows this, too, and his jaw clenches. "You'd have to get her off the ground"—below them, the earth churns and Earthborns are rising—"I have to fight her and all of ... _those_."

Taylor jumps off the chariot before either of them can argue. He is dwarfed by the monsters and unlike with Apollo, they do not offer him the slightest bit of comfort. He does not kid himself thinking that Gaia is unable to see him just because he cannot see her.

He's sinking ankle-deep already.

_What is the meaning of this, son of Zeus_, rumbles the earth._ I hold you to your promise._

"Just a test, I assure you!" Fred called from above. Everything's darkening and Taylor fears he'd lose his vision in the dark. "Can you beat my, uh, hero in hand-to-hand combat?"

Taylor will be killed in close combat, they all know this, but whatever lies are necessary to get Gaia to manifest. There's something churning, something that is not an Earthborn.

Taylor chops one of the Earthborn into halves. It collapses, splashing mud and Taylor is alarmed to find himself sinking knee-deep. He lurches forward—feeling his heart repeating the same motion in a thrill of horror—to where Gaia's manifestation has emerged.

Why doesn't she hide? Tch. Every immortal is just too egoistic for their own good— Taylor shrieks as a hand made of earth seizes him, snatching him from the earth.

_This boy will pose no challenge to me_, snarls the earth, _what mockery is this?_

But Gaia is desperate. Waiting millennia to rise and destroy every life form does not mean that she is willing to wait for _another_ eternity or two to pass. It is clear that Apollo has different intentions but she waits and—

Something cracks the air and Taylor sees—suffocating as his body is being squeezed—that chains of Celestial Bronze constricts are thrown around Gaia, like a cowboy lassoing a bull. In this case: a very, very stubborn heifer. The element of surprise is on their side: clearly, Gaia does not think that Apollo is capable of towing her off the ground, even if it's only an inch.

_Follow us!_

Taylor blinks, dazed and covered in mud, at the voice shouting in his head. He's world-weary and he's bone-tired of everything going on. But he staggers to his feet and pushes off the muddy earth. Apollo will probably be pissed if he isn't too busy trying to reinforce the chain from the struggling from the mud that Taylor splatters onto his beloved chariot.

Taylor feels the chariot close to tipping over.

"Off her!" he cries. "What're you waiting for?"

"If I let go for on second, she'll never be recaptured again," Apollo grits out. "My bow and special, extremely _explosive_ arrow are there. You have to shoot her down."

"What? I can't aim to save MY life!"

"It has a wide range, doesn't matter as long as your aim's not too far off the mark—DO IT!" Chains clinked together violently and Gaia's howling: surely, the whole earth is being shaken, experiencing earthquakes of varying severity.

Taylor notches the bow, feeling power thrumming through from his fingers to his whole being. He has no time to feel drunk on it, no time to relish how holding it chases the terror of Gaia and failure away, and instead, concentrates, arms trembling from pressure as he draws the bowstring back.

Apollo groans. A quick glance and Taylor sees ichor staining the bronze chains: just a drop onto the earth below and Gaia will probably awaken fully.

Taylor lets the arrow fly. "Close your eyes!" warns Apollo as the arrow glows gold, quivers and explodes—if the ensuing roar that could've heralded the world end is anything to go by. Taylor squeezes his eyes shut and turns away, hands flying up to palm his ears and he's powerless to do anything as the chariot's flung away.

Taylor's falling, his body to the earth, and his mind into the void.

Taylor wakes to a niggling worry in the back of his mind: buzzing, annoying and persistent. Gold is the first thing that comes to mind: the color of Apollo's hair, the color of his blood, the color of Kronos' eyes—

Taylor starts and his eyes fly open in undisguised horror. He makes to sit up but a gentle, slender fingered hand pushes him down, surprising force from such feminine hands. "Huh?" Dazed, he tries to take in his surroundings but he only sees a girl.

She has a gentle smile plastered onto a beautiful face; her caramel hair is braided down her side, her skin is flawless. She smells faintly of cinnamon. Taylor croaks, "Who're you?"

"My name is Calypso, young hero," she replies readily.

"'pollo?"

"Your minder is fine," she assures him, "but you are the mortal. You are the one who needs to rest." Taylor's mind fails to comprehend how he can end up on this lost island but he listens to her, he closes his eyes and lets himself drift into the embrace of Hypnos.

Taylor's glad he'd listened to her. When he wakes up again, he feels significantly well-rested. But the song that reaches his ears nearly kick him into the realm of unconsciousness again. "Stop singing, Fred!" he cries, sitting up irritably. He sees the sun god all smiles and beams and his muscles uncoil. "Gaia is—"

"Gone as far as I can tell," he chirps cheerfully, he tucks his lyre into his pocket.

Taylor feels so relieved he thinks he's cried. He does cry. Apollo touches his cheek, wiping the tears away. It surprises Taylor that he's crying; he's no wimp. "You know," Apollo says conversationally, as if they hadn't just embarked on the most dangerous task they both have probably faced, "Quests are exciting things. I wished I could go on another one. Though it's way below my station." He pouts. "Stupid ancient rules."

"Don't miss it," Taylor tells him, "they're dangerous and tasking. How did we end up here?"

"I have no idea but Calypso is very lovely," Apollo says, completely derailing from the subject at hand. He turns and looks out at the expanse of sea and white sand visible. It's the cleanest beach Taylor has ever seen and he's impressed. "It's timeless here. You'll never age, y'know?"

It sounds tempting to stay here: it's bound to be a relaxing life, if boring. But Thalia, Beryl and Jason linger on Taylor's mind—they have never left, not once. The son of Zeus knows instantly that he cannot stay here. He is ADHD, he'll go crazy from the inactivity of it all.

"What're you trying to say?" Taylor scrutinizes his half-brother's face. "I'm never staying. Please don't make me stay."

"'Course not," Apollo sounds surprised. "You're technically still a child, Calypso can't possibly fall in love with you." Taylor rolls his eyes, but the waves of relief had yet to finish assaulting his senses. He feels lightheaded from relief and a future free of large dangers: now, all they need to do is reach Camp and ... and figure their life out. The gist of the lives they want.

Apollo raps his knuckles on Taylor's head. "Stop thinking so hard, you'll get wrinkles."

"And _you_ never start thinking," Taylor retorts, but he's smiling. It fades a little when he sees how dark the world outside is. It's cloudy, as if a storm's about to, well, storm them. "You aren't pulling the sun or letting it pull itself."

"Yeah, well, I knew I'd need it when we chase Gaia around. It's damaged now: autopilot mode is gone. I think I'd ring Hephaestus up to fix it." Apollo runs a hand through his hair. "He'll visit soon, Calypso told me. So we'd have to wait."

"Can't you teleport away?" Taylor queries.

"Yes, but I'm not leaving it here."

Taylor frowns. "Then can't you send be back to my sister and Alabaster?"

"I can," he agrees, smiling warmly at Taylor. "But I don't want to."

"Why?"

"'Coz it'd be boring then. Stay for a little while. Listen as I compose a haiku and a song serenading our victory—though no one in the world will ever know."

It's a funny feeling: to save the world and have no one but the two of them know. Did Taylor feel unappreciated? No. He feels light, he feels as if he's flying even if he's sitting very firmly on the ground, leaning against the sun god, nearly nodding off. The thing weighing him down previously is his weariness and worries; now that they're gone, he feels that he's sitting on cloud nine indeed.

And it's funny, the sun isn't even out, and Taylor feels that the day is bright already.

**OMAKE—END**

. . .

* * *

><p><strong>[AN]:<strong> I have no idea what I've done. I've been stuck at the first sentence and Moka-girl's request circling my head, unable to be put into words until today. I just wrote what came, lol. I don't really think this will be feasible, realistically, or things would've been much simpler and there wouldn't be a story at all.

The diverging point that spawned this oneshot—aside from being a request and a (an extremely belated) birthday gift for Moka-girl—is that Taylor chooses the easy way out and kills Luke and steps up to take a more prominent role instead of shrinking away from responsibility.

And since Apollo/Taylor is a popular choice, I've put him in - but also at Moka-girl's request. I tried, but I'm not sure if it's to your liking, Moka.

I'd like it if you guys can tell me which is your favorite part. :P

P.S: I'd answer the reviews of this chapter and the last together.

**Review!**


	8. vi

**Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan**

_AN: Now, this is the real chapter. Last chapter is not canon and is just a special oneshot. A break off point so to speak. The Grace Twins reunite in this one._

_Also, the new poll is up so vote on it!_

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><p><strong>Your Saving Grace<br>**by GaleSynch

**VI**

**.**

"And this is your bedroom. You'll be sharing with the other foster child in my care, Alabaster. He's about four years younger than you, but I hope you can get along, alright, Taylor?"

I scowled at the foster 'mother' of this house but she acted as if she was used to it. Being handed kids with troubled pasts, she was probably used to it that my glare didn't affect her much. She opened the door, revealing a moderately-sized bedroom, large enough for two people at most.

The sheets and walls were grey and white: it was a boring place and the depressing tone was what I assumed to have made the child's shoulders sagged. The brunette boy glanced up when we entered; his dark green eyes assessed me with dislike.

"Don't give Taylor such a cold welcome, Alabaster," chided Mrs. Cole as she nudged me to enter the room. "He's lost his parents as you did, too. I expect you two to get along."

"Yes, ma'am," I said politely, depositing my bag on the ground.

She nodded, satisfied. She had dark red hair and pretty light hazel eyes; she was in her thirties, about a couple of years older than Beryl. Her face was kind so my ire wasn't full-force. "You'll like it here, Taylor."

I inclined my head but did not answer. She looked slightly disappointed but my cold shoulder didn't curb the determination in her eyes; she closed the door after telling me that dinner would be ready at seven o'clock.

Confused?

Here was the short version of what happened: I fell asleep on Aellai's back and lost complete control. She dissolved into mist form, I fell flat in the middle of the road. To my luck, a police car was speeding by when they saw an unconscious kid on the ground. I'd hit the ground hard enough to be knocked out.

After interrogating me and finding out that I was essentially homeless and an orphan, they sent me to court, and I was sentenced to the Fields of Punishment—sorry, I meant this foster home. The Cole family had no children of their own: the mother was barren. So they turned to this sort of jobs to soothe their aching wounds.

From what Lily Cole had told me, Alabaster Torrington had been here a couple of months ago. He was sullen and was not pleasant at all; or, in Henry Cole's words, a tough nut to crack.

I was in Colorado, somewhere in that state (as far as Aellai had brought me before she ditched me). Nowhere near Long Island Sound. I wouldn't be staying here for long though. I was a child of the Big Three, ten-years-old and completely aware of my status as a demigod: monsters would be hounding me. The Coles were nice, I didn't want to trouble them by staying for so long.

"Hey," I said, feeling the young boy's eyes on me.

"You look like a girl," he announced flatly and promptly ignored me.

"I know I need a haircut," I grumbled, tossing myself onto the remaining bed that he did not occupy. "But you need to cheer up."

"Don't tell me what to do, newbie!" snapped Alabaster.

"Don't give me that attitude, kid, I'm older than you," I growled. He glared at me, tiny fists tightening on his book, but I ignored him, rolling over in my new bed and falling asleep almost instantly.

I stayed longer than I'd intended to. If I ignored Alabaster's nasty disposition, life at the Cole household was nice. Henry was loud and boisterous, he made Saturday a movie night and insisted we stay there and interact. Initially, I assumed I would be summoning Aellai as soon as I could and give her a good kick up the ass for ditching me then leaving for Thalia as soon as possible.

But it didn't work that way.

Life here was too pleasant to say goodbye so quickly.

I stayed there for a total of three months before I decided to leave. Life had been good, briefly, with only half a dozen monsters to deal with every week. But if I stayed any longer, I would probably stay forever and play the fake role as their son. I simply couldn't.

So, after a nice trip to the mall, I packed my bag: everything I owned was stuffed into it. I'd already prepared a note for Mr. and Mrs. Cole so they wouldn't worry their heads off. It was short:_ it has been really nice, but I need to go find my real family._

There was a tiny damper in the plan: Alabaster C. Torrington. He was a nosy kid and though he maintained his initial fierce dislike of me that persisted to the last day of my stay, he kept following me around. Adorable little brother? Hades, no. More like a possessed stalker: he was intent on catching my wrongdoings, most likely to get me kicked out of the house so he could enjoy the Cole's hospitality for himself.

Well, he need not worry. I'd be leaving tonight, at midnight.

At least, I thought so until Alabaster clung to my legs like a freaking leech to stop me from leaving just as I reached for the doorknob.

"What the hell!" I hissed, trying to pry the child off me. "Let me go!"

"You're leaving!" he cried.

"So? You hate me and I can't stay here," I sighed, peeling his fingers off but he sat firmly on my knees. "I've got to go."

"I know what you are." I stiffened, staring at him. "You're a demigod like me. I'm a son of Hecate. I knew since I was born. Mom told me to go with you. It won't be safe for me in the long run."

"Hecate... the goddess of magic?" Alabaster nodded, tiny fists tightening on the fabric of my capris. "Look, kid, I'm a son of Zeus."

He gave a small gasp. "Like, the king of the gods?"

"Yes. And it's too dangerous for you to come with me," I said, voice softening at the information. This little fellow was like me: he was kin. As much as I would appreciate the company, I was not cut out to take care of a six-year-old. I was barely able to keep myself alive as it was—fighting was one thing, protecting another was something else altogether. "Monsters attack because they caught my scent."

Alabaster held on. "I'm going with you. Mom says there's this safe place for us: Camp Half-Blood. It's in Long Island."

"No," I said firmly.

"Yes!" he yelled, raising his voice. "Either we're going or we're not!"

"There's no we!" I hissed in response, ready to electrocute him and knock him out. "There's only me and you— I don't need a burden—"

"Mom'd given me a guidebook, I'm learning to do magic and I can help you fight monsters!" Alabaster protested. "And I have a weapon and the food of the gods— nectar and ambrosia!"

OK, now that was a better ultimatum. I studied him warily, weighing the pros and cons of letting him tag along. It would be an all-time low to steal his supplies and ditch him here with no necessary supplies. "Can you not complain if we can't sleep in a bed and without a roof over our heads?" I asked, finally. "I'm warning you now, life as a demigod on the run for Camp Half-Blood won't be comfortable and mortals' scent won't mask us anymore."

"It's better than getting Henry and Lily into danger," whispered Alabaster, twiddling his thumbs. I could empathize with that. "I don't want to see them hurt." I heaved a sigh, lifting him up and standing. I placed him on the ground. "So, can I come with you?" His green eyes were alight with hope.

"On one condition," I stated. Alabaster waited patiently. "You must listen to me. If we're overrun by monsters, if I tell you to run and abandon me, you must."

Alabaster hesitated. "All right," he finally said.

I shouldered my bag. "So pack and let's go." He nodded and rushed to do as told.

Under the shadow cast by the full moon hanging high in the night, I took his hand and we fled the neighborhood.

**.**

Fortunately, Aellai and Alabaster got along pretty OK even though he screamed the first thirty minutes away—I was unaffected by his high-pitched scream as the wind swallowed his voice—so we made through highways with no problems at all.

Alabaster pestered me into teaching him how to wield a sword. I had no clue how to wield it properly either. I just swung and stabbed until the monster was dead.

"Taylor, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," I said and Alabaster pushed the flap of the tent open. Needless to say, we'd stole it. But the mortal had been exceptionally quick this time. My arm had an ugly bruise and my cheek stung from where I'd been punched. Had I not electrocuted him, I probably would've been in court or juvenile detention.

"Does it still hurt?" asked Alabaster sympathetically. His attitude had mellowed down a lot after a couple of weeks together. I'd made it clear I would not tolerate that sort of attitude and I would dump him at the police station if he didn't start learning manners.

"Mm. It stings but it'll heal."

"Are you sure you don't need ambrosia or nectar?"

"No. We have to save it since we have so little of it." With what meager money we had left, I'd _honestly_ bought adhesive pads to cover the purple bruise on my right cheek. It always made Alabaster wince and the last thing I needed was for concerned, well-meaning-but-still-annoyingly-nosy adults to stop me and inquire what was wrong.

"'m sorry, if I'd been quicker—"

"It's no problem!" I said with false-cheer, kicking down the simmering irritation; it _was_ his fault. "And didn't you want to visit that museum full of ... uh, you said that there were magical artifacts there?"

Alabaster nodded. "Mom sent me a dream..." His eyes turned misty as the Mist he manipulated.

In return for sword-fighting lessons, he promised to teach me how to manipulate the Mist. So far, I could only pray that we look invisible instead of inserting false memories, unlike the little son of Hecate. And yes, I was jealous of a kid.

"Well, let's go."

We packed before we trooped into the city, wide-eyed as we scanned our new surroundings. Something was... was... my back was tingling; the old scar awakening, my demigod instinct warning me against the city. I turned on the spot, seeking a 360-degree view.

Before I could yell, the monster overshadowed the sun and I whirled around: I saw it baring its three row of sharp teeth at a young boy, from my side-view those teeth made a shark's teeth look like a bunch of toothpicks. Alabaster yelped. "It's going to kill him!"

I lunged. "Out of the way!"

* * *

><p>Thalia had been following something Luke couldn't see.<p>

He had no idea what but if she was so intent on following it, he would too. There was no way he was going to abandon her. Thalia was his best friend—the closest and longest friend really—and he owed his life to her. If she wanted to follow some phantom lead on a wild-goose chase, he would go through with it.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Thalia shrugged, agitated, her electric blue eyes sweeping from side to side, from pedestrian to pedestrian. His friend kept running a hand through her back, through the leather jacket, as if to grasp something he could not see.

Thalia explained that there was a huge scar on her back, from where she'd been conjoined with her twin brother.

(_"Conjoined?" Luke asked. "Aren't they usually the same gender?" Then he took in her tomboyish clothing. "Oh, you look like a girl I mistook you as—" He shut up pretty quickly after Thalia decked him upside the head for his ridiculous assumption._

_"No, you idiot!" she said. "It had something to do with Hera, Taylor told me, apparently, she tried to mesh our eggs together to kill both of us. We survived, of course."_

_"So, where's he?"_

_Thalia gave him an evil glare. "If it's any of your business where my brother is, Castellan, I would've told you from the beginning."_

_"Yes, ma'am."_)

"Is your scar tingling?" the son of Hermes asked, concerned.

"Yes," she said, tight-lipped. "It usually twinges but never ... never this big of a reaction. I'm scared that something'd happened to Taylor and Jason."

But they were too far from Los Angeles to do anything. Luke thought that they had pretty much confirmed that the Grace family had moved away or had all died (not that he'd told Thalia this) for they did not answer Thalia's phone calls. They'd also found out the hard way that monsters swarmed like bees to honey when demigods used cellphones.

"I'm going to get takeout from McDonald's," announced Thalia. He could hear his stomach rumbling in approval. "Wait here."

He shrugged. "Sure."

Thalia had just entered the fast-food restaurant when the drakon fell from the sky, spraying its poisonous breath.

Luke stared—what the Hades?—before he felt someone running into him, tackling him to the ground and they tumbled into a roll of limbs until the one who'd ran into the son of Hermes stopped. Luke stared into the face of his savior but didn't managed to get a proper glimpse as the younger child rolled off him and came up standing, a bronze saber in hand.

"You're a demigod!"

Surprised, extremely familiar, electric blue eyes flashed to him then back to the pavement where Luke had stood before, completely melted and destroyed. "I'm Taylor, you?"

"Luke," he gasped out, staggering to his feet as he heard Thalia shouting his name.

There was a stunned silence as Thalia and the newly-introduced demigod Taylor stared at one another.

"Sis?" cried Taylor.

"Teddy!"

"Taylor!" wailed another voice, snapping the stunned demigods into action.

* * *

><p>You'd think my reunion with Thalia to be more ... heartwarming and touching. But no, we had to be fighting for our lives. I noticed that Thalia did not have Aegis, the fearsome shield and cursed even more.<p>

"We can't beat this," said the blonde boy—Luke. "Nope, we can't." His throat bobbed as he swallowed his apprehension.

"Our best chance is running," I agreed. "Buy time. I'm going to summon Aellai."

"No!" said Alabaster. I stared at him. "We can't outrun it. This is a test—from Mom!"

"Then pass it!" yelled Thalia, spear in hand.

"I hate tests!" shouted her friend. I saw Luke holding a bronze sword that trembled the slightest bit in his grip. I was wielding my saber but I wasn't exactly concentrating: Thalia was here, beside me, this was surreal after a year of not seeing her.

"We can only send it away through a portal before it destroys the city," mumbled Alabaster, clutching his head as he thought hard and fast. "I need a medium—an artifact—to open a portal!"

"Great, so we steal an ancient artifact from the museum?"

"Luke, go!"

"Why me?" asked Luke, baffled.

"Taylor and I will hold the fort—take the kid and open a portal—you're the son of Hermes, god of thieves, now go!"

I caught a quicksilver revelation of his emotions: disdain at the mention of his parentage but he grabbed Alabaster and took off running. "And now, we fight."

**.**

The fight was going great until was I broke every bone in my left arm. To be fair, I wasn't a very durable demigod and having the drakon's tail crashing down on your arm would be a sure-fire way to break bones.

"Teddy!"

I grimaced in pain—and annoyance at the nickname. Pain wracked my whole left side; I figured the impact was enough to break my ribs as well: breathing was hard.

I fumbled in my pocket for the emergency ambrosia I kept on me all the time—evidently, for cases like these. It was nearly crushed to fine dust but I found large enough bits to bite into. It numbed the pain anyhow. Now here was to hoping that the tail was not poisonous.

Blood poured from the cuts: Thalia was faring no better. She'd twisted her ankle and there could only be so long before she was overwhelmed. Our saving grace (ha-ha) was that the drakon happened to be very clumsy.

Aellai, I thought desperately, I've got to summon Aellai.

"Thalia, Taylor!" I whirled around, fingers closing on the familiar hilt of my saber, to see Luke waving wildly at us. "Over here, hurry!" I staggered to my feet and grabbed my sister's hand, hauling her to her feet.

We broke off into a sprint. The drakon roared and trampled everything unfortunate enough to be in its path—cars, mortals, buildings, traffic lights, signboards—in its charge towards us. Ten feet away I saw Alabaster crouching, hands clasped as if in prayer, lips murmuring words I could not catch.

There was a swirling black hole before him, churning like storm clouds. I hesitated. "Jump in—go!" Luke was suddenly there, hands guiding Thalia and I towards the portal. It certainly looked like it but I could not see what was on the other side and I was scared of it.

But Thalia's familiar warmth in my hand kept me from chickening out. Together, we plunged into it, the sensation of falling through a waterfall of sand washed over me before I landed on my back, pain flaring. "Ow!" I yelled in pain when Luke and Alabaster came crashing down on us. I groaned.

"Sorry," grunted Luke. "But this kid's out of it. It took a lot of energy for him to opened that ... potty."

"Portal," corrected Thalia, rolling her eyes. "Get off us now!"

"OK, OK..."

There was a flurry of passing hands, ambrosia and nectar making its way to everyone before we sat down and heaved a sigh of relief. "What about those mortals though?" asked Luke uncomfortably. "It was after us and we just ran..."

"It's either us or them," I said tiredly. I glanced at the son of Hecate who was snoring softly in his sleep.

"Teddy, you've got a lot of explaining to do."

"Can we not talk in the middle of train tracks where we could be run over at any time?"

So we moved. I reached out to carry Alabaster, shifting him onto my back—Thalia glared at me until we moved out of the way and I placed my young charge on the grass beside Luke. "Take care of him," I muttered to the son of Hermes who nodded, eyeing me curiously.

Taking a deep breath, I crossed over to where Thalia was standing—a couple feet away from the boys. "Where's Jason?" Thalia fired off at the start of the conversation, eyes narrowed in a dangerous manner—her words were a punch to my gut. "You didn't leave him with _Mom,_ did you? You know she can't even take care of herself—much less Jason!"

In that moment, I knew I would be unable to bear the full-brunt of her anger.

"They're gone," I blurted out before I could stop to consider my words better. Thalia's anger faltered and caught itself; she gazed into my teary eyes. I knew I was close to crying because my eyes stung and my vision was blurring drastically.

"W-what do you mean—_gone_?" She sounded as if someone was throttling her.

"The day you... left, Mom took Jason and I out. I left them only for a moment and when I came back... Mom was crying, wailing about how that she-witch took Jason and how he was dead."

Thalia staggered back; I understood how she felt. Jason was our brother, we loved him and if he really died, he was too young for that fate. "You... you... then how did Mom _die_?"

"She's not dead, as far as I'm aware. I knew I had to leave... to find you and Jason—I didn't want to believe he was dead—but I can't leave Mom either. So I left her... at a place where— where she'd be properly taken care of." Thalia's eyes were full of tears. "Then I left Los Angeles and went scouring the country for a sign of you and Jason. I—this is not the best circumstance that we could've been reunited under but I'm glad—"

"Amaltheia led me to you," she whispered and before I knew it, I had an armful of my sister. She threw her arms around me and buried her face in my shoulder and simply cried. From the corner of my eye, I saw Luke making to stand, hesitate, then sit down again.

So he already cared about her so much.

I returned her hug, standing rather stiffly, until she managed to gather herself once more.

Thalia was a strong girl; she only needed three minutes to compose herself even though her eyes were ringed red and her face still stiff with grief—she held my hand, not seeming to want to let go.

I squeezed her hand in reassurance—I didn't feel like letting go either.

**.**

* * *

><p><strong>Updated: <strong>28 December 2014.

**Status:** Unbeta'ed.

**Question:** Do you guys have a grasp of Taylor's character yet? Or should I post a summary of his personality so you can understand him better?

**Review!**


	9. vii

Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan

* * *

><p>Your Saving Grace<p>

* * *

><p>7.<p>

There were four of us in a group now and that meant double the amount of monsters in our group. Alabaster tried his best to shield us with the Mist but it was no use: monsters' Sight were as good as, if not better, than demigods' sight.

Thalia and I filled in one another about our adventures during our one-year separation. Alabaster had returned to his nasty disposition—an attitude he happily provided to strangers. I assured Thalia and Luke that Alabaster would warm up to them soon enough.

It would be hard not to when we fought together daily, back-to-back, to save ourselves as we traveled the country.

We had one firm goal in mind: Camp Half-Blood, a haven for demigods like us.

I would've been totally dandy if Luke was not with us; I'd tried to ditch him and urge the others to do so but Thalia always stubbornly waited for Luke to show up before we moved.

The traitor Luke. I glared murderously at him but when he looked up, twelve-years-old and still innocent in a way, my expression melted away to be replaced by a look of brooding contemplation. If it wasn't for his close connection with Annabeth (whom he liked in a girl-guy way), we would all be doomed under Kronos' rule.

Anyway, we had to head to Richmond, Virginia—where the daughter of Athena lived and pick her up. She was essential to the plot. She had to survive to reach Camp Half-Blood and form a close connection to Luke.

"I think we have enough money to buy a couple of instant noodles," said Luke, drawing me out of my reverie. I glanced at him. Alabaster cheered: we were all sick of eating fish we caught from the river. "I'll—"

"I'll go," I volunteered, snatching the money out of his hands. "You did it last time, it's not fair to ask you to go again."

Luke sank back to the ground, gazing at me curiously: I had not made my dislike very subtle and the only times we got along was during battle where we were forced to watch one another's back. "Oh, okay. Stay safe."

"Mm," I returned noncommittally, turning and walking away, sure that Thalia and Luke would strike up conversation about my attitude towards him once I was out of earshot.

Lucky me, I had Alabaster as a spy and he could hide himself well with the Mist. So I wasn't missing anything, really. I was just a tad miffed my sister would go talking about me behind my back. Ugh. I wasn't sure who she trusted more these days: me or Luke.

I ran a hand through my messy, wild blonde curls that were getting too long, to try and look like a normal kid instead of a vagrant demigod. I did not succeed if the looks I was receiving were any indication. I heaved a small sigh, hoping that there would be no security guards to turn me away before I could get even three feet close.

_Your hair is getting rather long, Thaddeus Grace._

I failed to stifle a yelp at the raspy voice whispering in my mind; I stiffened, turning around to see who had spoken. I would've screamed had my voice not gotten lost halfway out of my throat. I contemplated running when I saw the three old ladies—older than even time itself, it seemed—but my feet felt rooted to the spot. I could not move.

I stared, wide-eyed at the ladies. One of them raised her hand, crooking her fingers: she wanted me to go closer. I did not want to do that—nope, not at all, but my feet moved against my will and came to a stop before the three old ladies. I wished I could make them seem as harmless or as amusing as Percy Jackson did but he had been ignorant of their true power.

My lips parted but I closed them again before I could say something I would regret.

The middle sister reached out towards me—I flinched—and her bony fingers closed around my blonde hair that had reached roughly to my collarbone. She applied gentle pressure. Stiffly, I sat before them, turning my back to them as she'd indicated. I did not trust any of them to hold a sharp object near my head but I found that I couldn't push her away—not without severe consequences anyway.

There was a snip and I distinctly felt my hair falling to the ground. How could anyone make cutting hair sound so ominous I would never know.

I did not know what to do. "Were you the ones?" I blurted out. "The ones who brought me here?"

Instead of replying, something pressed into my shoulder. I glanced down to see a pair of scissors: it was the largest fucking pair I'd ever seen. I grasped it from her bony fingers and the next thing I knew, I was sitting alone, no one behind me.

What crept me out more was that they'd taken the remains of my hair.

**.**

"What took you so long?" asked Thalia grumpily, eyeing me. "...Hey, you got a haircut and you didn't invite me with you?" Her hair was reaching the small of her back; it softened the effect of a hardcore punk-girl.

I chose not to respond, I was still very disturbed by what happened. My companions took one look at my stony expression and decided not to press for answers: something I was grateful for since I did not know how to answer either. Eventually, Thalia scooted over to me. "What happened?" she asked in a murmur.

"Met some... some immortal deities."

"Dad?"

"No," I said, ignoring her sharp look of disappointment. "Three old ladies, I have no idea what they wanted from me. They gave me a haircut."

"That's..." Thalia paused, looking for a word to express her feelings.

"Weird? Creepy? Scary? Yep." I waited for a response but Thalia was staring off into the distance somewhere. I nudged her. "Sis?"

"It's her!" she cried, springing to her feet. Instinctively, I reached out to grasp my pendant but did not draw my saber just yet.

"What her?" asked Luke, crouching in preparation for an attack. Even Alabaster was tense: as the youngest, he was the most vulnerable despite our best efforts to protect him so he was always alert, ready to get out of the way.

"Amaltheia," answered Thalia in clipped tones. She rushed around, grabbing our scattered supplies and shoving it into her bag. "Come on, we've got to go!"

"Why?" I asked, baffled. Even as I spoke however, I was moving, packing everything I'd laid out. Guess we'd have to enjoy our instant noodles another time. Alabaster looked disappointed but one stern look from all of us, he got up.

"I have a feeling about that goat," she muttered in response—which wasn't really the reassuring answer I was looking for. I glanced at Luke but he shrugged unhelpfully.

Together, we took off after the goat.

**.**

Somehow, we ended up in Richmond, Virginia. This must be the Fates' intervening. And as Fate would have it, Thalia had a twisted ankle and Alabaster was too tired to continue moving. We set up camp in a secluded spot: Luke and I worked in silent tandem to make sure the other two were comfortable enough before we chased the goat in pursuit.

It was quite awkward.

I mean, I only spoke to Luke when it was necessary and we had never been left alone together before. Alabaster always stuck close by. I've never appreciated Alabaster's leeching ability before until now.

Luke broke the silence between us by clearing his throat. I tensed, throwing him s shirty look. "Well, this is weird," he commented. I looked at him again and noticed that his face was smooth, unblemished by any scar. I felt a stab of pity, recalling his ultimate fate. "There you go again," continued Luke, voice careful and mellow: as if to calm me down from any attacks. "Looking at me like that."

I snorted. "Don't be narcissistic..."

"I didn't mean it that way," Luke retorted. "Your eyes fill with pity every time you look at me— why?"

Great. He noticed. And here I thought I was being subtle. "Er..." I paused. "Well, Thalia told me about your life before you ran away from home."

His steps faltered but he forged ahead until he was walking right next to me. "Don't pity me, I don't need it," he snapped, voice razor sharp.

"Of course you don't. You abandoned your clinically insane mother to her own devices; she might be dead as we are speaking." It happened too quickly: next thing I knew, Luke had seized my collar and glared murderously into my eyes.

"Don't—pretend—that—_you_—know—anything!"

"I don't need to pretend to not know you're a horrible son!" I exploded, incensed at the blatant challenge. I blame my dad's genes.

"You abandoned your mother as well! You're not better!"

"I left her in safe hands, you jerk!" I cried, electricity arcing off my body in my ire: Luke released me and stepped back. We were glaring at one another. I smoothed my shirt, turning away first. "Just go back to Thalia and Alabaster," I said, voice cold even to my own ears. "I don't need someone to help me chase a freaking goat."

"I can show you that I'm responsible," said Luke tersely, averting his gaze when I glanced back, scowl fixed firmly on my face. "Thalia practically entrusted you to me, I've got to go with you and protect you—"

"Because you don't want to disappoint your girlfriend?" I finished snidely, anger abating when I saw red creeping up his cheeks. I had to stamp down the urge to smack him with his baseball bat or throttle him. It would be hard to explain to Thalia what happened to her 'boyfriend'.

"Wait, is that why you act like that?" asked Luke, realization coloring his words. I ignored him huffily, about to walk away, but he seized my arm, forcing me to turn around. "You think—think Thalia and I are—she's my best friend—not—whatever you think we are!" He gestured so wildly he smacked my forehead. "Sorry!"

I slugged his arm in response, huffing. "Look, no boy and girl become best friends and stay that way. You better treat her well, jerk. I don't want to be an uncle or a godfather, you better not—not—" I couldn't even finish that without gagging.

"No!"

"Yes."

Bickering, we trudged down the street, after Amaltheia.

**. . .**

Luke didn't realize until Taylor abruptly upped his pace that he hadn't release the son of Zeus; his fingers were still encircling the boy's wrist.

They had been catching sight of the goat every thirty minutes; two hours had passed and he was seriously considering giving up. "I want a cold drink," said Luke, groaning as he fanned himself. His baseball bat was slung over his shoulder. He had a sword but had lost it not long ago.

"I think she dispenses cold drinks," said Taylor and Luke stared. His brain wasn't functioning properly after so many miles of walking. He wasn't sure how much stamina the son of Zeus had but, very spitefully, he had not summoned his spirit-horse for a ride, on the grounds that "it would scare the goat away".

Having to rely on Taylor for transportation sucked, especially since he always made sure Aellai kicked Luke off or electrocute him before allowing him to ride properly.

Luke had always suspected the reason of his dislike, but hours earlier, he'd gotten confirmation from the younger boy himself: Taylor was jealous of Luke. Because of his relationship with his sister. That explained how Taylor was always glaring at Luke, like he was wishing the son of Hermes would drop dead.

The son of Zeus wasn't very subtle in his hating.

For Thalia's sake, Luke wanted them to get along but Taylor had other ideas. Taylor was nice to Alabaster and Thalia, and Luke wouldn't say no to another friend; besides, Taylor would make a nice friend. Years of being on the run had made him numb on the prospect of friends but meeting Thalia and becoming friends made the son of Hermes long for more friends, he had been reminded of the wonders of companionship.

Luke also knew very well who Thalia would chose if Taylor put his foot down and demanded separation of the group. Alabaster—adorable kid, but the attitude, _ugh_—would no doubt follow the son of Zeus and Thalia was Taylor's twin sister, no doubt she'd chose her brother over Luke.

Then, what? He'd be all alone again.

Luke was just glad Taylor was unaware of the fact, consumed by his jealousy as he was: Taylor could make Luke feel a myriad of emotions, all weaknesses he had yet to exploit.

"What are you doing?"

Luke blinked. "What?"

Taylor slapped his hand away with an irritated look. "I'm going to Amaltheia, if you're scared, stay here."

Luke looked around; the goat was just standing there, less than a hundred yards away, contentedly nibbling grass at the base of the monument.

He was no expert on barnyard animals, but Amaltheia did look strange now that we were closer. She had curlicue horns like a ram, but the swollen udders of a girl goat. And her shaggy gray fur ... was it glowing? Wisps of light seemed to cling to her like a cloud of neon, making her look blurry and ghostly.

A couple of cars looped around the traffic circle, but nobody seemed to notice the radioactive goat.

"First we hide from the goat," Luke muttered. "Now you want to talk to the goat?"

Taylor's lips thinned; he had not much patience for Luke. Actually, every positive aspect of the son of Zeus flew out the window when Luke was involved.

Luke, however, felt that he was responsible for the younger demigod simply because he was older and he owed it to Thalia to keep her brother safe.

Luke crept out of the rosemary bush, tailing Taylor; they silently approached the statue. The goat didn't pay them any attention. She chewed some grass, then butted her horns against the marble base of the monument. A bronze plaque read: Robert E. Lee.

"I don't know much about history," started Luke, looking at Taylor's back, "but I'm pretty sure Lee was a general who lost a war. That doesn't strike me as a good omen."

Taylor waved him away and knelt next to the goat. "Amaltheia?"

The goat turned. She had sad amber eyes and a bronze collar around her neck. Fuzzy white light steamed around her body, but what really caught Luke's attention were her udders. Each teat was labeled with Greek letters, like tattoos. The teats read: Nectar, Milk, Water, Pepsi, Press Here for Ice, and Diet Mountain Dew.

Taylor was examining the teats. He gulped. "Uh, Amaltheia? Can I have Pepsi?"

"We don't have a cup," Luke pointed out. "But while we're at it, I want Pepsi as well."

The goat glared balefully at them and bleated. Taylor chuckled weakly. "Right, sorry, sorry. We were just thirsty. So, what do you want me to do? Did my dad send you?"

"Um, Taylor, you sure this goat is from your dad?" Luke felt that he needed to ask.

"Yes," said Taylor, a bite of impatience in his voice. "Amaltheia, looked after baby Zeus in his cradle. She nursed him."

"On Diet Mountain Dew?" Luke asked, feeling he goat's glare scorching into his skin, but he felt that the genuine smile Taylor cracked was worth the goat's ire.

"Blaaaah," said Amaltheia.

Taylor patted the goat's head. "It's okay. He was just being an idiot, he didn't mean to insult you. Why have you led us here, Amaltheia? Where do you want me to go?"

The goat butted her head against the monument. From above came the sound of creaking metal. The demigods looked up and saw the bronze General Lee moving his right arm.

Luke fought every impulse to hide behind the goat—he didn't think it was a very heroic thing to do. He'd fought several magic moving statues before. They were called automatons, and they were bad news. He wasn't anxious to take on Robert E. Lee with a nine-iron. And to his luck, his only support was a passive-aggressive son of Zeus who would probably stand and watch Luke take a couple of beatings before stepping in.

Fortunately, the statue didn't attack. He simply pointed across the street.

Luke didn't feel like showing how nervous he felt but Taylor's eyes were piercing. "What's that about?"

Taylor clenched his jaw. "He's trying to show us something. Look."

Across the traffic circle stood a red brick mansion overgrown with ivy. On either side, huge oak trees dripped with Spanish moss. The house's windows were shuttered and dark. Peeling white columns flanked the front porch. The door was painted charcoal black. Even on a bright sunny morning, the place looked gloomy and creepy—like a Gone with the Wind haunted house.

His mouth felt dry. "The goat wants us to go there?"

"Blaah." Amaltheia dipped her head like she was nodding.

Taylor gulped, looking as unsure as Luke felt. Taylor didn't look much like his sister despite being conjoined twins; he had a softer bone-structure, all blonde and fair where his sister was dark and hard, but they had identical glares that could kill puppies. So, whatever scared him should be something that they had to take seriously, and maybe build a fort to take the threat on while they were at it.

The goat bothered Luke, and not just because she dispensed Pepsi products. Something was nagging at the back of his mind. He was sure he'd heard another story about Zeus's goat, something about that glowing fur...

Suddenly the mist thickened and swelled around Amaltheia. A miniature storm cloud engulfed her. Lightning flickered through the cloud. When the mist dissolved, the goat was gone.

"I hadn't even gotten to try the ice dispenser," mumbled Taylor, sighing wistfully. He must be really thirsty.

Luke took the chance to gaze across the street at the dilapidated house. The mossy trees on either side looked like claws, waiting to grasp the young demigods.

"You sure about this?" Luke asked Taylor. He didn't want to explain to Thalia how her brother was mutilated or dead.

Taylor hummed thoughtfully, glancing at Luke from the corner of his electric blue eyes. "Amaltheia leads us children of Zeus to good things. The last time she appeared, she led Thalia to you and you two to me and Alabaster."

The compliment warmed Luke like a cup of hot chocolate, for reasons he couldn't explain. The compliment was indirect but the son of Zeus' gaze was softer than ever when his eyes rested on Luke, like he was finally accepting Luke as something good in their lives.

Luke felt that he was a sucker that way: Thalia could flash those blue eyes, give the son of Hermes one kind word, and she could get him to do pretty much whatever. Since Taylor's eyes were identical in shape and coloring to Thalia's, Luke felt that denying the son of Zeus was pretty much impossible as well.

He exhaled. "Okay. Creepy mansion, here we come."

**. . .**

"So, let me get this straight, you're stranded in an old man's house, waiting for leucrotae to gobble you up. What the _Hades_?" Thalia's glare, if anymore venomous, could've killed both of us.

I shrugged. "We won't be monster's dinner, I swear, so calm down and rest up. We'll be back after sunset, sis, so don't worry your dark head off." Thalia didn't seem to be relenting soon and I didn't want her to come charging here just because we hadn't ended the conversation properly across the Iris Messaging. "How's summoning one of Aellai's friends coming?"

Thalia's expression fell. "No luck. I can't even summon Aellai."

"Well, they _were_ locked up by Aeolus after all..." I mumbled. "Anyway, we've got to go. Tons of plans to make. Stay safe." I wanted to add 'love you' but didn't want to when Luke was here, intruding on a private conversation.

"Yeah, stay safe both of you." Then the IM ended.

"How are we getting out?" asked Luke, resting his butt on the edge of the bathtub.

"I dunno," I answered truthfully. I wondered if this had happened in canon and how Thalia and Luke got out of it alive. "But can you get out? I want to take a bath."

"Now?" he asked incredulously, sky blue eyes wide with surprise.

"I like looking and smelling nice," I retorted dryly. "And you should take a bath, too." I wrinkled my nose as he passed me. "The smell of sweat and dirt masked your natural scent. You could've smelled nice."

Luke shot out of the bathroom so quickly the door slammed into the wall and bounced back.

"Weirdo," I mumbled, stripping.

Waiting for death was an odd feeling: I was used to being a few minutes away from life and death and the battle was the deciding factor. Fighting these leucrota's won't be a battle since my saber would do no good to it.

Halcyon Green, cursed son of Apollo, cast me an odd glance when I stepped out of his bathroom. "You _had_ to take that bath?" he asked, almost as incredulous as Luke. The expression was almost similar.

"That's what I said," Luke muttered as I passed him the towel. He slung it over his shoulder and entered the bathroom, closing it gently.

I cracked an icy smile, eyes lingering on the lone leucrota who served as Hal's speaker. I felt a little discomfort when I imagined the new clothes Hal had given me to have belonged to a dead demigod the leucrota had potentially—most likely—eaten. "I was just enjoying myself... Hal, do these creatures understand what we're saying?"

"They're like dogs," said Hal's voice from the leucrota. "They understand basic English but Greek is a most definitely. And they're very intelligent."

"Can we make a plan without them cluing in on it?" I asked. "Please, Hal, can you send them away?"

"Then we wouldn't be able to communicate," Hal pointed out with a frown.

I nodded at his laptop. "You can type there." Muffled by the wall, the shower was turned on and I heard water beating against the concrete. I watched, wringing my fingers as Hal concentrated and a full minute later, the leucrota stalked away, not without throwing a nasty glare my way.

Hal looked at me, his expression plainly saying,_ What now?_

Good question. I rubbed my forehead. "They can't be killed by any metal known by the gods or men..." I repeated, muttering the words to myself as I scrambled for a plan. I wasn't a child of Athena and I wasn't _remotely_ smart beyond being capable in Maths and Arts. "I, uh... can fire or stakes kill them?"

Hal hunched over his laptop, begun to type. I watched him curiously as he did so. He was wrapped up in Python's skin. I thought it was pretty cruel for Apollo to do it. "Hey, ever wonder if your dad did it because he was forced to?"

Hal's body stiffened at that thought. I leaned forward, suddenly energetic, "I mean, think about it! You're his son, there's no way he would ever—" But Hal was already shaking his head. His smile curved into a rueful line, his gaze on me pitying and adoring all the same.

Unbidden, the memory of Thalia accusing me of being delusional, of wanting to see the world in rose-tainted glasses, surfaced. My chest knotted in displeasure and anger at that look Hal was giving me: he thought I was hopelessly naive. Miffed, I crossed my arms and read what he had written.

_Ordinary fire won't harm them, a few demigods tried that. And these aren't vampires._

Ordinary fire. "That's it!" I cried, elated as the fine bones of a plan started forming in my head. I've got to tell Luke, I darted to the bathroom, throwing the door open. "Hey, Luke—!" I broke off when I heard an unmanly yelp. Oh, shit.

"What the hell? I'm bathing! GET OUT!"

My face was flaming as I stumbled back, closing the door. Hal was doubled over and his body shook so much I thought he was having a seizure before he looked up briefly and I realized he was laughing at me. "Hey!" I protested, feeling absolutely humiliated and cursing demigod ADHD over and over again. I felt like I would never be able to look at Luke without... thinking of this.

I'd seen nearly everything. I wanted to keel over dead. Suddenly, being eaten by the leucrota didn't seem so bad anymore.

"Are you done yet?" I asked churlishly. Hal straightened with a muted cough, nodding though his lips were stretched widely and his eyes glimmered lively, so unlike before and he looked decades younger. I wondered how long it'd been since he'd laughed—a pure, genuine sound of pleasure.

My heart ached for him. "My plan consists of—I'm not sure if you've heard of it but it's called—Greek fire."

Hal's eyes widened, excitement coloring his pallid features as he nodded. He made wild gestures before pointing at the bookshelves. "You have the recipe?" I asked, feeling hope flooding my tight chest.

_There must be_, he mouthed and we started for the bookshelves. I tossed books that did not contain the information I wanted, too impatient to arrange it.

So when Luke stepped out of the bathroom, he came into a battlefield of fallen books and two demigods paging books at an impossible speed. "What're you looking for?" he asked. I pretended to be very interested in the book, trying to ignore how my cheeks flamed.

Luke sounded pretty uncomfortable, though, so at least I wasn't alone in my embarrassment. "Greek fire," I said, voice higher than normal. "Help us find it."

"Fire— it works on leucrota?"

"We're about to find out."

When Luke crouched next to me and searched the lower-half of the shelves, I wanted to smack him and scream at him to get ten thousand feet away from me but I squashed down the irrationality. I gave the book a passing glance, about to chuck it away, when I saw it: the shield of Zeus and Athena, Aegis.

I blinked. It wasn't frightening. But it fit the description of Thalia's would-be shield in the books. I wondered why she hadn't gotten it yet. Thinking about Thalia led me to think about Amaltheia who'd led us here. "I wonder why the goat led us here," I growled, thinking that if I ever saw it again, I would flay it alive and use its pelt as a blanket.

Hal tapped my shoulder. He gestured to the laptop: _What goat? Didn't you come here for the treasure?_

I stared. "What treasure?"

**.**

* * *

><p><strong>Updated on 7 January 2015<strong>

_Happy New Year everyone! :P_

**Q:** If you were a demigod, whose demigod child would you be? It tells a little about personalities.

**Review!**


	10. viii

Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan

* * *

><p>Your Saving Grace<p>

* * *

><p>8.<p>

"Be more careful!" I snapped. "Why did you suddenly lose your grip? Do you know that it could've killed us?"

Hal prodded me in the back, nodding at the vial of potion I was holding. His message was clear: I should be careful in case I smashed it in my anger. I exhaled. I was being paranoid. Luke had yet to be corrupted by Kronos so his actions wouldn't be life-threatening to us.

I bit my lip. Yet.

"I'm sorry for overreacting," I said quietly. "I just didn't want you—us to die."

Luke, who was fiddling with a bracelet he'd picked, looked up, met my eyes and quickly looked away. "Nah, I shouldn't have dropped it in the first place. I just …" he trailed off, the tips of his ears reddening. I decided not to pursue the subject. He cleared his throat and pushed the bracelet to me. "Go on, try it out."

I clasped it onto my left wrist. "Let's take another one," I said. "For Thalia."

Luke picked another one and just in time, too. No sooner had that second bracelet left the case, it clicked shut. It just confirmed my suspicions: Zeus had sent us here for the shields. I felt a lump of gratitude forming in my throat._ Thanks, Dad._

"Can you talk, Hal?" asked Luke curiously, standing and dusting his pants. Since Hal always wore Python skin, he never had to change clothes. I wondered if he'd ever bathed. Just in case, I didn't inhale too deeply whenever we stood too close together.

Hal opened his mouth to speak but no sound came. "Maybe you need the leucrota's dead," I suggested when his face crumpled, hope falling to the ground in pieces of concrete. "Since they're your jailers. Or you've got to get out of this house."

Luke snorted, but wisely kept his mouth shut. "Found the recipe yet?"

I chanced a glance at the clock. We'd come here at nine in the morning. Now it was one in the afternoon. I bit back a curse. Six more hours and we'd be leucrota food.

Hal was typing away, excited despite his disappointment. Then he showed us the short novel he'd written: _You're the ones! You actually got the treasure! I can't believe it! That safe has been sealed since before I was born! Apollo told me my curse would end when the owner of the treasure claimed it! If you're the owner—_

There was more, with plenty more exclamation points, but before I could finish reading, something glinting from the corner of my vision caught my eye. My breath hitched as I openly gaped. "What?" asked Luke, noticing my expression.

"I …" The scissors the Fates had left me. I'd dumped it in a drain and I was sure I would never see it again and here it was? I bit back a curse as I crossed the distance and seized it. It shrunk and I shoved it into the pocket of my jeans. "What? It's nothing."

"You pocketed something," Luke accused, eyes narrowed. He made me feel like a low-life.

"It was mine, I left it here." He knew I was lying but my expression was shuttered enough for him to keep his mouth shut about it. "Anyway, back to the topic at hand … " I let my eyes screen through the words he'd typed again. "Maybe Apollo meant we're going to rescue you."

I sounded terribly cynical and halfhearted but Thalia was right: I had to see the world as it was, not behind a Mist of my own creation. This world was brutal and cruel, and to survive, I had to at least imitate brutal and cruel.

Hal typed a new sentence:_ Or maybe I die today._

"Thank you, Mr. Cheerful," Luke said, rolling his eyes. "I thought you could tell the future. You don't know what will happen?"

Hal typed:_ I can't look. It's too dangerous. You can see what happened to me last time I tried to use my powers._

"Sure," I grumbled. "Don't take the risk. You might mess up this nice life you've got here."

I knew that was mean. But the old man's cowardice annoyed me as it had annoyed Luke. He'd let the leucrotae kill numerous demigods, indirectly or not, he was responsible for their deaths. It was time he did something to amend that, preferably before Luke and I became the leucrotae's next meal.

Hal lowered his head. His chest was shaking, and I realized he was crying silently.

The guilt I felt was like a punch to my gut. Maybe it was my fatal flaw: feeling guilty for every single person I made cry. Ever since I could remember, I'd been trying to puzzle out my fatal flaw. So far, the only fatal think was that I liked being delusional and I was hopelessly optimistic. I was waiting for something more serious in my nature to surface and bite me in the ass.

"It's okay, Hal. We're not giving up. This bracelet's got to have a special power. In the mean time … " I stared hopelessly at the books. "We have to keep searching for the book."

Hal took a shaky breath. He turned to his keyboard and typed:_ It's silver. Even if it turns into a weapon, the monsters can't be hurt by any metal._

"So hurry up and help us search," I retorted, realized that I sounded too harsh, added in a softer tone, "Please?"

Hal nodded and the son of Apollo joined us in rummaging around. The next time I looked at the clock, I jumped when I realized it was already five o'clock. "We have two more hours?" I asked, dazed with disbelief. How could time escape me so quickly?

_Running out of time_, Hal typed once he'd hobbled to the laptop. _I'll try to read the future and see if there's anything that'd help us other than Greek Fire._

Luke frowned. "I thought you said that was too dangerous."

_It doesn't matter_, Hal typed. _You're both right. I'm a cowardly old man, but Apollo can't punish me any worse than he already has. Perhaps I'll see something that will help you. Taylor, give me your hands._

He turned to me. I hesitated. Outside the apartment, the leucrotae growled and scraped against the corridor. They sounded hungry.

I exhaled shakily, crossing the distance towards him and placed my hands in Halcyon Green's. The old man closed his eyes and concentrated, the same way I do when I was trying to summon lightning. His hand was surprisingly warm: it was wrinkled and covered in liver spots. He looked fragile and not because he was old. No demigod should have so little determination and so much hopelessness.

He winced, and then took a shaky breath. He looked up at me with an expression of sympathy. He turned to the keyboard and hesitated a long time before starting to type.

_You are destined to survive today_, Hal typed.

I tried to smile but my cheeks felt stiff. "That's—that's good, right?" Luke asked, exchanging bewildered and worried looks with me. "Why do you look so sad?"

Hal stared at the blinking cursor. He typed, _Someday soon, very soon, you'll face an opponent you can't beat and you know that you will have to do what you must to spare the one you love the most of pain and loneliness. You are not the Chosen One and so, you will … cry blue tears? I see things that are hard to describe. You will face a betrayal and ... death in a strike of lightning. All I'm certain is that your path will be full of fear and uncertainties. But someday you will find bliss in the embrace of … I cannot see who or … what._

His fingers trembled at the last word, as if '_what_' was '_death_' and he just didn't want to scare me by telling me point blank.

But what really disturbed me was the '_death in a strike of lightning_' part. Whose death had it referred to?

Goosebumps rose on my skin; an unwilling shudder ripped through me. "T-Thanks, Hal," I stuttered. I looked around, unwilling to look at Hal for longer than necessary and met Luke's glacier-like eyes. "Your turn," I said after a long, pregnant pause. I stepped aside and Luke took my place.

Hal Green held out his hands to the son of Hermes. His grim expression was as if he'd braced himself for the absolute worst fate.

A wave of dread washed over me. What if Luke found out something in the future and it helped the Titans?

"Don't, Luke," I said, swallowing thickly. "It … it's not worth it."

The old man blinked his watery eyes. His hands were so frail, it was hard to believe he carried the blood of an immortal god. He had told us his curse would end today, one way or another. He'd foreseen me surviving but if I was going to suffer anyway, I wasn't so sure it was a good deal—or if it would be worth it in the end.

Luke held out his hands. Hal took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His snakeskin jacket glistened as if it were trying to shed. I forced myself to stay calm, resisting against the urge to slap Luke's hands away.

His eyes flew open. He yanked his hands away and stared at Luke in terror. I bet he saw Luke as Kronos.

"Okay. I'm guessing you didn't see anything good." Luke cast me a terrified look, as if seeking reassurance from me. I gulped but remained silent.

Hal turned to his computer. He stared at the for screen so long I thought he'd gone into a trance.

Finally he typed, _Fire. I saw fire._

I frowned. "Fire? You mean today?" I sighed. "I'll resume the search for the recipe."

"There's more," Luke pressed. "What scared you so badly?"

He avoided Luke's eyes. Reluctantly he typed, _Hard to be sure. Luke, I also saw a sacrifice in your future. A choice. A future haunted by a what-if. And also a betrayal._

I waited but Hal didn't elaborate. I tried not to sigh in relief: at least the old man was sensible. "Come on, Luke," I took his hand, squeezing in support when I saw his ashen-face. "Let's keep searching."

**.**

Hal's library looked like it had been hit by a hurricane, but the old man didn't seem to care. He tossed titles and flipped through pages as fast as we did. In fact, without him, we never would've found the answer. After lots of fruitless searching, he raced over to us, tapping a page in an old leather-bound book.

I scanned the list of ingredients, and my excitement built. "This is it. The recipe for Greek fire."

Everything we needed was in this room. I'd seen all of the ingredients when we'd gone through the supplies from defeated demigods: pitch from the old torches, a bottle of godly nectar, alcohol from Hal's first-aid kit and everything. I read to the end of the list. There was only one thing missing.

"A catalyst," Luke read, looking directly at me. "We need lightning."

"I'm better with air tricks, but sure," I said, shrugging.

Hal dragged us to the computer and typed, _You can summon lightning?_

"Whenever I want but it tires me. It's a child of Zeus thing. But I can only summon a tiny amount of electricity."

"It'll be fine." From the tone of Luke's voice, he was trying to sound brave so I didn't have the heart to tell him his voice was shaking pretty badly. "I'll prepare the mixture. When it's ready, there's an outlet under the computer. You can call down a lightning strike on the house and blast it through the electrical wiring."

"And set the house on fire," I added, sarcasm dripping.

Hal typed, _You'll do that anyway if you succeed. You do understand how dangerous Greek fire is?_

I swallowed. "Right, that's the con of magical fire. Whatever it touches, it burns. You can't put it out with water, or a fire extinguisher, or anything else—according to the recipe. But if we can make enough for some kind of bomb and throw it at the leucrotae—"

"They'll burn." Luke glanced at the old man. "Please tell me the monsters aren't immune to fire."

Hal knit his eyebrows. _I don't think so,_ he typed. _But Greek fire will turn this room into an inferno. It will spread through the entire house in a matter of seconds._

I looked at the empty enclosure. According to Hal's clock, we had roughly an hour before sunset. When those bars rose and the leucrotae attacked, we might have a chance—if we could surprise the monsters with an explosion, and if we could somehow get around them and reach the escape panel at the back of the cage without getting eaten or burned alive. Too many_ if_s.

My mind ran through a dozen different strategies, but I kept coming back to what Hal had said about sacrifice. I couldn't escape the feeling there was no way all three of us could live to see a new year.

"Let's make the Greek fire," Luke said. "Then we'll figure out the rest."

Since Luke was better with cooking up the fire, Hal and I just helped him gather the things he needed. We started Hal's stovetop and did some extremely dangerous cooking. Time passed too quickly. Outside in the hallway, the leucrotae growled and clacked their jaws.

The drapes on the window blocked out all sunlight, but the clock told us we were almost out of time. I bit my tongue and refrained from rushing Luke. Finally—time passed as if it was nobody's business out there but inside, waiting for him to finish, I felt like it had been years—! Luke handed me a pot full of gooey black gunk, which I poured into an old glass jelly jar. I sealed the lid.

"There. Can you zap it? The glass should keep it from exploding until we break the jar."

Now the responsibility rested on me. I didn't feel honored or thrilled. I felt like one wrong try and we'd die. I wondered if this was my fatal flaw: fear to take responsibility and plain cowardice. I definitely didn't want to be blamed if the house exploded in our faces. "I'll try. I'll have to expose some wiring in the wall. And to summon the lightning, that'll take a few minutes of concentration. You guys should probably step back, in case … you know, I explode or something."

I reached into my pocket and grabbed the scissors, crawled under the computer desk, and stared tinkering with the outlet. I ripped off the lid and stared at the wires. I knew shit about mechanics and wires but I just cut one. Electricity fizzled. I closed my eyes and concentrated, trying to summon the tingling to my fingers.

_Please don't fail me when I need you the most now,_ I thought desperately. I estimated a couple of minutes passed before the tug in my gut became more pronounced and my hair started standing on end.

Thunder shook the house: something went _ZZZAP-POP!_ White smoke billowed from the computer, and a smell like burning tires filled the room.

I sat up, grinning. The wall behind me was blistered and blackened. The electrical outlet had completely melted, but in my hands, the jelly jar of Greek fire was now glowing green.

"Someone order a magic bomb?" I asked, elated at my success. I had been so scared of failing. Fatal flaw: failure? Maybe.

Just then, the clock registered 6: 58. Five more minutes. Hal held out his hand. We were running out of time. I stared, uncomprehending.

"Taylor," Luke said, voice as grave as his expression. "Give Hal the Greek fire." I opened my mouth to protest but Luke cut across me. "He has to. He's going to help us escape."

"No," I mumbled, eyes darting about wildly. My grip on the jar was deathly. I wasn't about to let an old man die for us. Or maybe that was too heroic and I should just step aside and let him do one last heroic deed. But what mattered more? Glory or life?

I sprang to my feet. "I know how to work this shield. I got a gist of what it does." In my other hand, the Fates' scissors weighed heavily. I wondered if it was just my imagination as I tucked it back into my pocket. "I want you two to stay hidden. I'll herd it away from the enclosure and I want you two to run."

"Then how on earth are you going to escape?" Luke asked. His face was pale and desperate and panicked all at once. Despite how horribly I treated him, he was worried about me. "This is suicide!"

My chest was thudding, fear spread of every pore of my body. I can't let them convince me, the longer we linger, the more likely we'd all die. "_I_ can fly!" I snapped. "Neither of you two can and unless the leucrotae can fly, tell me I'm screwed. Hide in the closet! I've got this."

_Famous last words._

The clock ticked: 7: 03. Time's up. The bars to the enclosure started rising. "Trust me," I begged them. They hesitated. Hal watched me with his sad, old eyes, pleading me. "You said I'd survive!"

A leucrota spoke with Hal's voice: "The future is not set in stone."

"Then it's not a given that I would die." The bars had risen halfway to the ceiling. The trapdoor ground open slowly. A red hoof thrust its way through the crack. Inside the chute, the leucrotae growled and clacked their jaws. "There's no time," I warned, retreating to the bathroom. "Go, quickly now!"

"Promise me," Luke said, voice trembling as he seized the son of Apollo's arm. "Promise me you'll come out alive."

I nodded. "I swear." I neglected to mention this was not by the River Styx so I had nothing to fear.

Luke and Hal had barely closed the door to the closet when I stumbled backwards into the bathroom as the leucrotae burst into the room. All three of the monsters hissed and growled and trampled across the furniture, anxious to feed.

"In here!" My throat was tight. I didn't think I could speak so I was surprised I managed to choke out those two words. "Come on, you ugly mutts! I- I'll kick your asses to Hades!" I doubted anything could be so stupid to believe me since I reeked out fear but the creatures galloped toward the bathroom. The door crashed open and I was suddenly faced with three leucrotae and confronted with the fact the bathroom was stupidly small.

I was starting to feel the room compressing me in. Shit, this was the absolute worst time to be claustrophobic. I slapped my bracelet. "Aegis!" And—thank the gods—the bracelet sprang into a shield. The leucrotae howled in fear. Wind lifted me into air and I somersaulted, pushing myself off the wall, and shot out of the bathroom, bumping my head against the door but I ignored the throbbing pain.

"Throw the fire!" Luke yelled from somewhere behind me. I heard metal groaning. I glanced back and saw the bars closing, nearly snapping his baseball bat in half now.

I raised my voice. "You know what this is, you Tartarus scum dogs? This is your last meal!"

I tossed it just as something grabbed my arm. Luke pulled me into the chute, we had to duck through. The panel closed, snapping his golf club. He guided me. We crawled through a metal duct into another bedroom and stumbled for the door.

And the mansion shook with a massive explosion.

We burst into the hallway, which was already on fire. Flames licked the wallpaper and the carpet steamed. Hal's bedroom door had been blown off its hinges, and fire was pouring out like an avalanche, vaporizing everything in its path. "Where's Hal?" I demanded.

An old, wrinkly hand clasped my shoulder, answering my question. He gestured wildly. We reached the stairs. The smoke was so thick, I couldn't see the bottom. We stumbled and coughed, the heat searing my eyes and my lungs: Luke's hand guided me along, I gripped his hand so tightly I thought they had been superglued together. We got to the base of the stairs, and I was beginning to think we'd reach the door when the avalanche of fire poured down the staircase and caught us. The building exploded.

With the last vestiges of my strength, I harnessed whatever air within the shockwave of the flames and gave us an extra lift. I couldn't remember how we got out. I could only assume that the shockwave blasted the front door open and I just managed to push us outside.

The next thing I knew, I was sprawled in the traffic circle, coughing and gasping as a tower of fire roared into the evening sky. My throat burned. My eyes felt like they'd been splashed with acid. I couldn't see and I whimpered at my helplessness. I was about to call for Hal and Luke when the latter screamed.

I desperately rubbed my eyes, trying to reach my saber but someone steadied me. I breathed heavily, one hand clamped over my eyes. "Hal?" I called, recognizing the musky scent of snake.

"Yes," croaked a raspy, papery voice so fragile and thin I could've poked a hole through it with a needle. I stiffened: I didn't recognize the voice. "Yes, it's me, Hal."

"Your voice!" Ignoring the pain of doing such, I forced my eyes open and stared at him. It really was the ancient son of Apollo and his smile could've outshone the sun: it was beatific and full of pleasure. "The curse … it's over! Luke! Where's—what're you doing cowering there, come here and listen to Hal!"

Apparently, Luke had looked straight into the face of Medusa on the shield and he'd freaked. He looked embarrassed but the incentive of hearing Hal talk, free of his curse, made him forget that. Together we stood and watched the mansion burn. Bricks crumbled. Black draperies burst into sheets of red fire. The roof collapsed and smoke billowed into the sky.

Hal let loose a sob. A tear etched through the soot on his face.

"Why're you crying?" asked Luke. "Don't tell me you missed that house."

I elbowed him for his insensitivity. Those were tears of happiness: Hal was finally free. Before I could say anything, sirens blared. I tensed, looking at Luke to see that he had also went rigid.

Being runaway minors, we had learned to distrust the police and anybody else with authority. The mortals would want to question us, maybe put us in juvie hall or foster care. We couldn't let that happen.

"Come on," I told my friends.

We ran through the streets of Richmond until we found a small park. We cleaned up in the public restrooms as best we could. Then we lay low until full dark. "I'd summon Aellai and we'd get back to Thalia and Alabaster."

"Tell me more about them," said Hal.

So, as we passed time, Luke and I took turns telling him about our escapades. Well, Luke did most of the talking anyway. I fell asleep, the drones of their voices the bridge to sleep.

**. . .**

"What happened?" Thalia yelled, sprinting towards them the moment she saw them, Alabaster barely able to keep up, startling Luke so bad he nearly jumped up—which would've been bad since the son of Zeus was sleeping, head on his lap.

"Let me explain," said Hal brightly. He missed his voice so much he had not stopped talking: as if he was reassuring himself that his curse had been lifted.

"Who're you?" demanded Alabaster rather rudely, eyes narrowed. "You_ smell_." He arranged his face into one of petulant disgust to convey his meaning.

Luke wanted to reprimand him but it would probably cite an argument. The son of Hecate only listened to the son of Zeus and besides, Hal did not seem offended. His snake skin had dissolved into sulfur, blown away by the wind and he was not missing it one bit. In fact, the ancient son of Apollo felt oddly light about it.

"It's the Python skin," explained Hal.

"_What_ skin?" asked Alabaster, bewildered, his eyes bulged slightly.

Thalia did not seem to care about them at the moment. She checked her twin brother's state, forcefully opening an eyelid to see his eye. Luke was pretty sure Thalia didn't know what the purpose of that was but she did it because she wanted to reassure herself, to look professional or maybe she wanted to punish her brother even when asleep for worrying her.

"Explain," she demanded once Taylor was safe in her eyes.

Luke didn't feel safe staying there—five demigods at night, one ancient, one unconscious, one bone-weary and one a child, leaving only one capable demigod to defend them. And they had no weapons beyond a dagger and whatever Hal had managed to salvage.

Hal started talking.

Once he was done, Thalia's thunderous expression turned murderous. "And you just let him sacrifice himself?"

Hal frowned. "He wanted to be bait, not a sacrifice—"

"Same difference, old man!" Thalia barked, cutting him off, her voice as sharp as the dagger Alabaster was examining.

"Taylor was right, though, he can fly and he escaped just fine—" The moment he opened his mouth to elevate some of the heat on Hal, Luke regretted it a few seconds in. Thalia's expression was hard, her lips formed something like a sword's slash: she was very angry and Luke had never seen her like this before.

"You _let_ him?" Thalia's voice cracked under the strain of her anger; electricity arced off her tan skin, stinging Luke and Hal but neither demigod complained. Alabaster had retreated a safe distance and was pretending he never knew Luke which meant the son of Hermes was on his own, especially since the son of Zeus was out. "My brother's an optimistic idiot! We could've been using a bazooka to bomb one another and he'd think it's a freaking debate!"

Good point. Taylor never struck Luke as a down-to-earth person though he wasn't one to tell fairy-tales.

"Hal foresaw his future," Luke settled for saying weakly, hoping Taylor would wake up at any moment. "Hal said Taylor would survive today." Seeing as Thalia was already in a temper, Luke decided that neglecting the rest of the fortune-telling was smart. Thalia was as protective of Taylor as the latter was of her: hearing that one of them would suffer would throw the other into a frenzy.

"You're a son of Apollo," said Thalia, examining the newest addition to their group like he was a nasty thing, a slug. Luke was sure it was due to stress and how her brother had nearly died to save him: she was usually very nice. Or maybe Taylor was rubbing off on him. "You can see the future. So, what do you see now? Us ditching you or letting you come along?"

Hal's shoulders hunched with every word she spoke but Luke found himself grinning. Thalia's voice was mellowing, softening with every word to the end, there would be no debate as to whether or not the son of Apollo would be joining them.

**. . .**

Go ahead, call me a jerk, but I pretended to be asleep while Luke and Hal were frying in the hot-seat that was Thalia's glare and temper.

I remained silent, still pretending and regulating my breath, as Luke was punished by carrying my dead-weight even though he was dead-tired.

We wandered in a daze through neighborhoods and industrial areas. We had no plan, no glowing goat to follow anymore. Some of us were bone tired, but neither of us felt like sleeping or stopping. Thalia was leading but I didn't dare open my eyes to see where we were going.

Finally, I felt Luke coming to a stop. I cracked an eyelid open, wondering if it was safe now. I had to look at Thalia's face to judge her anger levels though.

We stopped for a rest near an old warehouse. In the dim light of the moon, I could see a name painted on the side of the red brick building: RICHMOND IRON WORKS. Most of the windows were broken.

Thalia shivered in the cold. "We could head to our old camp," she suggested. "On the James River. We've got plenty of supplies down there."

Luke spoke, for Hal's benefit, "It would take at least a day to get there, but it's as good a plan as any."

"You mean we have nowhere to go," Alabaster scoffed.

I felt myself being shifted as Luke's muscles rippled and he placed me on the ground. Someone had placed a bag beneath me and my head was, at least, not on hard concrete. I heard munching sounds: my friends ate in silence. I was wondering when would be the right moment to wake up when I heard a faint metal ping from a nearby alley. My ears started tingling. We weren't alone.

I waited for someone to notice and three seconds later: "Someone's close by," Luke said. "Not a regular mortal."

Thalia's voice was terse. "How can you be sure?"

"I dunno, but let's go check it out," said Luke. He stood. "Here," he said, handing something to Thalia and I heard the sound of metal meeting human skin softly. "It's Aegis, a replica of it anyway. Your brother has one and he insisted we get one for you, too."

"The keyword is Aegis, if you want to activate it," chimed in Hal helpfully.

"OK, Hal, Alabaster, you two stay here and guard Taylor."

Thalia and Luke's footsteps were nearly gone when Hal and Alabaster both spoke, nearly in unison, "We know you're awake."

I grinned and sat up. "How long?" I asked simply.

"From the very beginning," said Alabaster, rolling his eyes. I was close enough to ruffle his hair so I gave into impulse and did. "We were really worried, y'know?" He glanced at Hal. "Not me and Gramps, but me and Thals. She started yelling all of a sudden as her back burned. It's raw and red. Were you burned?"

Hal glanced curiously between us. "What's he talking about?"

"Thanks to Hera," I explained, "Thalia and I were born conjoined and before you ask, we're a boy and a girl. Hera's handiwork, she hoped we would die when our eggs collided but thanks to the Fates, we merged instead. We went through surgery and I guess demigod blood count for something because it was a success and we only have a large scar to carry around." As an afterthought, I added, "and the bond. It burns and tingles when the other twin is in danger."

"What a wonderful bond," said Hal happily.

Before I could ask what was wrong with him—one twin was in pain and the other would feel it, how terrible was that?—when Luke and Thalia returned, a little girl in tow.

She hid nearly completely behind Thalia and my twin had to drag her out to showcase her to us. "Hey," said Hal, flashing her a brilliant grin. "I'm Halcyon Green, son of Apollo, but just call me Hal. This is Alabaster Circinus Torrington, son of Hecate, and that's Taylor Grace, son of Zeus. Who're you? Who's your godly parent?"

I shot the son of Apollo a rueful look: I didn't think our days would be quiet ever again with him around.

"I..." The girl looked stunned. But she recollected herself quickly when Luke gave her an encouraging nudge. "I'm Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena." She looked shy all of a sudden. "It's very nice to meet you. All of you are really demigods?" Her gaze lingered on Hal. "I didn't know we can live that long."

"I'm a special case," admitted Hal, sounding terribly sad and happy at the same time. I wondered if he was proud to have lived through a curse. "There's no need to be shy. We're all a family now."

The beatific she gave us was a little heartbreaking.

**.**

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><p><strong>Updated on 8 February 2015<strong>

_Thanks for the reviews everyone! Shout-out to the latest_ Guest_ reviewer for such a heartfelt review. I'm glad you liked my stories. I liked Beryl's scenes too, she might make an appearance in later chapters, especially when Jason comes into the equation. Lol, I don't have telepathy so I can't be sure of what you're worried about. Stay tuned :P_

**Q: **Do you have any SI stories to recommend? Preferably in Naruto, PJO, Bleach categories. Thanks.

**R&R**


	11. ix

Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan

* * *

><p>Your Saving Grace<p>

* * *

><p>9.<p>

"We should talk about our roles," Hal happily suggested this on one, fine morning that 5 AM hadn't even smiled upon.

Thalia slurred sleepily, not even awake yet but I could translate: _someone, please shut Hal up._

Even I was getting a tad frustrated. I knew he missed being able to speak and he was now making up for lost time but he talked when we were all asleep—or when we were about to fall asleep or, worse, when there was a monster and he spouted useless trivia about said monster that did not contain said monster's weakness. He was very energetic and much happier than when he was trapped in his childhood home. Good for him, but he was starting to get annoying to the point of making me wish I could chuck him off a cliff.

"What roles?" groaned Luke, rolling over, eyes still closed and I felt him bumping into my back.

"I guess I'm the extremely ancient uncle," continued Hal, as if we'd never spoken. I groped for a rock, eyes still closed, small enough to make a point but not large enough to seriously injure the old man. "Or the grandfather, I don't mind, you kids are like my grandchildren already. Annabeth and Alabaster are the kids. Luke's the dad, Thalia's the older sis or the aunt, and Taylor's the mom!"

That was enough to make me open my eyes and search more vigorously for the desired rock. Instead, my fingers found Thalia's leather jacket, virtually useless to me. "What?" I demanded, speech slurred by sleep. "I'm a boy. Thalia's the mom and she likes— oof!" The air rushed out of my lungs as Thalia elbowed me harshly. Easy for her since I slept beside her. Annabeth and Alabaster slept beside Hal.

"We all know you're the most motherly bunch," chirped Hal. I wanted to slam his face into the asphalt—repeatedly. "You always scream at us to go to bed."

"Because you're annoying and I'm tired," I grumbled, annoyed.

"Speaking of annoying—are you aware there's a tiger watching us?"

Luke and I jerked awake so quickly our heads knocked together. "OW!"

"Pipe down, idiots," snapped Thalia, rolling into a crouch, resting her weight on the balls of her feet while I staggered into an upright position, clutching my head.

"You have one hard noggin'," I gritted out. Luke groaned in response. "What's … that's not a tiger! That's a wolf!"

No sooner had I finished my sentence, an arrow pierced the air and nearly gored me. I yelped, electricity sparking, deflecting the arrow at the last minute. I stared in horror at the silver arrow as Annabeth drew her dagger. I followed her example and whipped my saber out. Thalia's shield and spear were in the ready.

Alabaster had very unwillingly lent his Imperial Gold sword to Luke. Hal sat and watched everything curiously while Alabaster hid behind him, peering warily around. They were usually lookouts and shouted warnings.

But it was too late: we were surrounded. Prepubescent girls emerged from the darkness of the forest, like silvery wisps of mist sharpening into human forms as they came into focus. They were armed; their bows were notched with arrows as silver as their parkas and bows.

In the lead, I saw a girl with bronze skin, black hair braided down her back and a silver circlet woven in the front. Her eyes were like volcanic rocks, gaze particularly heavy as they rested on me and Luke. I grabbed Annabeth and herded her behind me.

"I can—"

"Shh!" Luke hushed her. One of the archers snorted. "Who're you?" he asked, voice not shaky despite the shifty look in his eyes. And we were horribly outnumbered.

"Silence, you insolent—"

"Phoebe," said the lead girl sternly. She eyed all of us, deemed us harmless, and looked satisfied. "I'm Zoë Nightshade, lieutenant of the hunters of Artemis. These are some of my fellow hunters—Phoebe, Sadie, Tanya, Emma and Leanne."

Luke studied them. "All girls," he noted unnecessarily.

"Shut up, Luke," I muttered under my breath but his statement had already incensed the ladies.

I saw a thickset girl bristle heavily. "Got a problem with that, boy?" she demanded aggressively. Luke looked positively alarmed: the girl was at least twice his size and her arms were about as thick as his neck, she could probably snap Luke like a twig and look _good_ doing it.

"No," I said quickly. "That's awesome. I'm Taylor, son of Zeus and—"

The Lieutenant of Artemis, Nightshade, was snarling. I faltered. "I'm Thalia," my twin quickly jumped in to save me from being murdered by the hatred in Nightshade's eyes. "Daughter of Zeus. That's Annabeth, child of Athena; this is Luke and Alabaster, son of Hecate and that's Halcyon Green, son of Apollo." Thalia had purposely left out Luke's ancestry since he hated his dad: he wasn't subtle about it.

"Six demigods," noted Phoebe. "I'm surprised to see all of you alive and that old man … is also a demigod?" She sounded mystified: a testament that demigods didn't live long lives. I wished she wouldn't be so surprised. Annabeth was scarily smart and perceptive for her age and that sort of reaction would alert the daughter of Athena that we'd lied: demigods didn't live as long as I made them out to be.

"It's a long story and I wish to do it justice," said Hal. "But I sense that you young ladies are not interested in men." To us, he said, "They're Artemis' handmaidens. They hate boys and men in general. Taylor, Luke, Alabaster, I suggest the three of you to back down. Want some tea?"

I gawked at him. _Dude, what the heck?_

"No thank thee," said Zoë stiffly. Hal was an old man and he looked too fragile and friendly to be intimidating or manly, I guess. "My sisters and I are merely hunting until our wolves came across thee." Her eyes lingered balefully on me and I saw Thalia shifting closer, nearly shielding me. "Children of Zeus—so it's true. The Big Three pact has been broken."

"What do you mean by a broken pact?" demanded Thalia harshly.

Zoë did not seem offended. "Back during WWII, the Big Three—Zeus, Poseidon and Hades—made a pact to not have any more children because of the risk these children of the Big Three carry. They are too powerful. And there is a Prophecy made: any children of the Big Three are a threat to the world. Apparently, Lord Zeus is unable to help himself."

I didn't like how she spoke of our father but I kept my mouth shut. "Well, I hope we've satisfied your curiosity, can you leave now, please?" Each Huntress bristled as if I'd done something to mortally offend them.

"Watch it, boy," one of them snarled like the wolf by her side.

"We didn't invite _you_," said Alabaster, outraged.

"That is a child, Leanne, stand down," Zoë spoke calmly when the thickset girl started forward, as if she wanted to wring the son of Hecate's neck. "Annabeth, Thalia, may we speak? Privately." Her tone made it clear it wasn't a suggestion. We glanced at one another.

I nodded and Thalia left, Annabeth trailing closely behind, eyeing them suspiciously.

"I hate tea," I told Hal blandly as I sat beside him. "Let's enjoy it anyway."

Luke kept looking around, frustrated and angry. His ADHD kicked in and he spoke, "What if they kidnapped Thalia and Annabeth?"

"Then I would know," I said, referring to the scar in my back: it tingled when Thalia was distressed. She wasn't so I wasn't worried. I sipped the tea and gagged, shoving it to Luke who took it and drank it without complain, too worried to bother much. "Jeez, Thalia won't leave us and Annabeth practically worships my sis, they aren't going anywhere."

"How can you be so sure?" demanded one of the Hunters of Artemis. They were eyeing us like judges, like they wanted to tell which of us deserved the death penalty. Only Hal and Alabaster seemed to be receiving the lighter sentences. "You two don't deserve the girls!"

"Anna's a kid, I'm not a pedophile and Thalia's my twin sister—full-blooded sister," I emphasized, making air quotes. The Huntress looked unimpressed. I think her name was Sadie.

"That does not excuse the other boy," sniped another Huntress who I assumed to be Emma.

Before Luke could rebuke, Thalia and Annabeth stormed out of the bushes; well, Thalia was doing most of the storming, she looked foul-tempered. She seized my hand, twining our fingers as if she wanted to make a point, teeth gritted. I saw Zoë coming into sight but she did not approach.

"Someday, daughter of Zeus," she said, her voice full of dark promise, "thee will regret thy choice."

"Not likely," I returned ludically. "Just because all of you suffered some form of betrayal from boys doesn't mean the other girls will be as unlucky as you."

"Watch thy tongue, son of Zeus," snarled Zoë, eyes flaring in anger.

"He will meet a sticky end, if it placates you, Ms. Nightshade," said Hal delicately. "I can see the future, a perk of being a son of Apollo."

"Hal!" we protested.

Zoë sneered faintly but her anger seemed allayed anyhow. "I certainly await that day." And with that nasty comment, she melted into the shadows and trees.

"Thanks a lot." My words rolled off in a slide of sourness before it made its way to the son of Apollo's ears.

"We were about to be killed by prepubescent girls," said Hal, not seeming castigated. "I thought it was wise to tell them what _they_ want to hear."

"What did she want?" Luke inquired though I could make an educated guess.

"They wanted to invite us to join the Hunt," supplied Annabeth, always eager to please Luke. I rolled my eyes. "Thalia said no and they argued." The daughter of Athena studied me thoughtfully. "She really hates you, Teddy."

"I wasn't keen to get her to like me," I stated, shrugging. "I don't care. Now, are we moving or not? We still have a long way to go." Annabeth sneezed. "Want my hoodie?" I offered, but I didn't wait for her reply as I stripped, handing the overlarge particle of clothing to the young demigoddess.

I watched as the others packed up. I was staring off into space when Annabeth's voice grounded me. "Teddy?" Her voice was childish despite her mature composition—in comparison to Alabaster anyway, those two didn't get along. "Do you and Thalia have a younger sibling?"

I stared, stunned, at the younger girl. "How did you know?"

Annabeth looked at me slyly. "You just confirmed it for me."

I refrained from strangling her—and smacking myself. I let out an embarrassed huff: outsmarted by a kid, the fact that she was a daughter of Athena didn't serve to propitiate me in the slightest bit. "Jeez. Are you going to answer me?" I nearly added something concerning Luke but eschewed.

"Because you're always taking care of me and Alabaster, even when we haven't voice our discomfort yet, you noticed instantly."

"What can I say?" I scoffed. "I'm perceptive."

Annabeth bit her lip. "Where's your sibling?" She couldn't keep her tone to one of polite interest despite her best: she sounded way too curious for her own good.

"Someplace better," I answered, trying to believe my own words. "His name is Jason. Someday, maybe, you'll meet him. He's a year younger than you."

Annabeth remained silent but she slipped her hand into mine, surprising me. Her pitying mien didn't make sense. "Teddy, have anyone ever told you that you have the saddest eyes ever?"

I didn't know what to make of that. I held her hand as we continued walking, a gentle breeze accompanying us. Hal was humming under his breath, slightly out of tune. We walked and walked, the destination in mind blurry and distorted.

"Hey, can I play on that swing?"

I turned and stared, not realizing that we'd walked into a playground. Luke shrugged. "Go ahead, Al." It took three minutes for everyone to get bored of staring and waiting and eventually, joined the play. Hal wandered off to supervise Annabeth and Alabaster who were yelling, "I can _so_ climb faster than you!"

Luke was challenging the monkey-bars; should've been easy with the amount of monster-fighting we'd done but he kept falling. I glanced at a smirking Thalia. We approached the son of Hermes; he was too concentrated in the task at hand to realize we were close by. We each seized a leg and tugged him down mid-way.

He yowled as he fell. I laughed. "Hey!" he protested. "I was doing so well at it, too!"

"I'll teach you good," said Thalia confidently and loped off to start the monkey-bar climb at the beginning. "Teddy, you coming?"

"No thanks, I'll wait at the end there."

In the end, Thalia won, of course.

I was thanking Lady Tyche by the time the sun was setting—absolutely no monsters today, ignoring the meeting with the Huntresses of Artemis.

"Ted, 'm tired," said Alabaster, yawning. He stopped when we came to the top of the small hill. "I want to fly," he announced, looking at me expectantly.

"What's with you?" I asked incredulously.

"It's the ADHD acting up," supplied Annabeth helpfully, ignoring Alabaster's filthy look. "How does flying feels like, Teddy?"

"Taylor," I corrected, despite knowing that they will all ignore me anyway. "Um, the sensation is, like …" I glanced down at the hill. "Come on, join hands!" Confused, Alabaster took my hand as I gripped Thalia's tightly and Annabeth slipped her hand into Luke's who tugged Hal forward.

Harnessing the winds, I jumped and the others were pulled along.

Forgetting yourself for a brief moment and laughing in pure exhilaration: I think that was what flying was all about.

**.**

**Three months later.**

"You shouldn't have come here!" boomed a voice from above.

I jumped, nearly dropping Thalia. My sister clung to me, arms wrapped tightly around my neck, as I stepped over a bag of trash. We were in Connecticut, right outside Luke's old home. I saw that it was practically killing the son of Hermes to come back here but the rest of us were tired and Thalia was injured.

Hal wasn't exactly young. He started and nearly fell off. Annabeth rushed over to him and steadied him. She looked nervously around.

Luke's face was hard as he opened the door. "In," he said tersely. Thalia and I exchanged uncertain glances before I entered.

"Luke!" cried a woman's voice distractedly and before I knew it, I had been seized and pulled forcefully into a hug. "Luke, my boy, you came back! I knew it! Hermes said you wouldn't but —"

"Taylor! Mom, let Taylor —GO!" Luke shoved May Castellan violently away from me. Thalia yelped. I stumbled, staggering over to the couch and dropping Thalia there. I was glad to be free but I thought it was sort of harsh to treat his own mom like that.

Apparently someone else thought so, too, because a man stepped out of the shadows, a dark disapproving frown on his face. He had Luke's eyes, blue and sharp, arched eyebrows and salt-and-pepper hair. "Luke, we've got to talk."

"Who're you?" asked Alabaster. It was his favorite question.

"I'm Hermes."

Luke's face drained of blood far quicker than Thalia's wound. I watched worriedly as Hermes and Luke drifted off to the kitchen to talk. I was embarrassed to say I nearly fell over the couch when May Castellan appeared again, grinning so widely I saw every single one of her tooth.

Thalia and I exchanged looks and had a quick but silent exchange: _Uh, this is Luke's mother? I know, bro. Our mom's, like, a million drachmas in comparison! Hey, our mom has always been a million drachmas and more, Lia!_

Annabeth and Alabaster poked curiously at the plate of burnt cookies Ms. Castellan had provided. May was looking so pointedly at me I felt her gaze was a knife poised to sink into my skin: I took a burnt cookie to elevate her attention and bit into it, glaring at the others until they each took one provided.

I gagged into the flowerpot when May turned to tend to Thalia's leg, procuring yellowed bandages from beneath the tea table. Annabeth was whispering furiously, "That's not good. Yellow means that there's germ and it'll worsen Thalia's wound, might start an infection that—"

"Will it kill you to speak English?" hissed the son of Hecate. I nudged them when they broke off whispers and started raising their voices.

I wished we didn't need to recuperate here but sleeping on the roadside was not an ideal situation. Hal, despite being a son of Apollo, couldn't heal as he only a few abilities of Apollo. He could recognize medicine on sight, play instruments he'd never seen before, tell a lie from truth, predict the future and shoot like an experienced hunter but sadly, no healing powers to speak of. (I shouldn't have expected much, his singing voice was like claws on glass, and his poetry made an infant's babbling a masterpiece.)

Hal was unashamedly trying to eavesdrop on the father-son conversation taking place a few feet behind us. I was being more subtle: keeping my ears pricked to catch snippets.

"—were you when I called? Did you know that I have to hide in the cupboard whenever she gets into one of her fits?" Luke was yelling.

Hermes murmured something I couldn't catch.

I was contemplating joining Hal at leaning against the wall to be closer when cookies poured onto my front. "Ted!" said Thalia a second too late. May's bony fingers seized my biceps and she hauled me to my feet; I yelped, squirming but her glazed green eyes told me she was beyond conscious thought.

"_Save him!_" she shrieked in my face. "_My son, not my son—no—no!_"

Thalia let out a shout of alarm and electricity blasted the mortal woman straight from the side. I was horrified as May toppled over, eyes closing, the echoes of the Oracle's prediction clinging onto my skin. "Lia!" I cried, words unable to convey the horror I felt.

Luke and Hermes came running. "What—?" He faltered at the sight of his unconscious mother. His red, angry face meteorically morphed into one of calm. "Oh," his voice was now glacial icicles from the North Pole, piercing my ears with the contempt frozen into each syllable, "you offed her? That's great. Now let's go."

Hermes didn't even spare his son a scandalized glance nor did he acknowledge Thalia's hurried and repeated apologies as Luke tried to haul us out and the boy's father tried to ensure May's continued existence; Thalia's face was sheet-white. Annabeth and Alabaster were stunned silent, guided by Hal, silent as wraiths.

"I'm sorry," I added hopelessly. "I … Thalia was just trying to help and she went into one of her … uh, fits, and— Lord Dionysus should be able to help," I added as I scrambled for the door before the god of thieves could blast me to bits.

"Don't you think I've tried?" Hermes asked hopelessly. His gaze went through me: he wasn't looking at me, really.

My jaw locked tight; "Sorry," was all I could say. But I couldn't pour any sincerity into my words, not when I knew he would live to centuries later where the memory of May and Luke Castellan would be but a speck among those he wouldn't remember and had failed; a person ducking out of sight in his life and eventually, a person who turned the corner and never looked back.

I ducked out of the doorway and closed the door, never looking back.

**.**

"Ouch!"

Even in sleep, demigods weren't safe, especially not from themselves. I rubbed my sore head, where Luke had smacked me in his flailing.

"Electrocute him," suggested Alabaster who was keeping watch. He yawned surreptitiously.

"I'll keep watch," I told him. "Go to bed." The son of Hecate didn't bother protesting: he slid into his sleeping bag and fell dead asleep right away. I seriously envied his friendship with Hypnos, I needed a lot of struggling and wrestling to be able to close my eyes with no thoughts haunting my back.

I did as Alabaster suggested though—the kid was a different brand of freaking genius—and electrocuted the son of Hermes into awakening. I did it so often now I barely felt the tug in my gut. "Hey," I said as he rubbed his eyes. I waited until he had recollected himself before continuing, "We should continue finishing the chariot since you're awake."

The chariot was something we agreed we would stay and build. Aellai could not fit the six of us and I was tired of doubling back and wasting time so this was our solution: we would ride in this and Aellai would pull the chariot.

Luke nodded wordlessly. I didn't know what to say. We weren't close friends—as far as I was concerned, he stuck to Thalia more and they were BFFs. Hal crept him out with the sad looks and the son of Apollo actively avoided him anyhow, especially the scene at his home; I bet Hal knew of Luke's fate and what sort of person he'd turn out to be. Annabeth and Alabaster were sort of neutral with the others, equally close to everyone except one another.

"Bad dreams?" It made me feel inadequate once I spoke. I was getting pretty tired of playing nice, pretending that his future would be okay when it wouldn't be. I picked up a screwdriver and proceeded to dismantle the cupboard we'd stolen—it had rich, mahogany doors, fitted to be our planks. Luke picked up the slack on the other side.

"We should move so we don't wake them," suggested Luke, not answering my question, and I complied though I felt slightly stood up.

I glanced back and saw that the fireplace was now as large as my palm from this distance. I wondered if Luke had noticed I'd been sort of avoiding him. We didn't talk unless necessary; my reserved actions must've clued him in because he never sought me out for any guy-talk anymore.

"I had a nightmare," confessed Luke. "Can I talk to you about something personal?"

"Uh, no." I had no interest and if it was truly something pitiful enough to tug on my heartstrings, I would be inadvertently setting myself up for a train wreck once I pitied—or worse, empathized with—him.

Getting attached to him was suicide: he broke Thalia and drove her off to the Hunters. I tried not to think about it and instead, paid more attention to my work than I should. The nail bent under the force of my angry hit.

"Thanks," he said, as if I hadn't said anything. "Just … are you ever angry at Zeus?"

Whoa, sensitive topic, red alert! I considered my answer carefully. "I know Lia's not very happy with our Dad," I enunciated my words, slowly, to draw time. "But I've never … never thought much about being angry at him. I missed him and wished he was here more but I don't feel angry."

I knew my dad loved me. Not Zeus, but my other, earlier father. The one from my past-life but though there was mutual care, we had a long-distance relationship. He had always been countries apart due to the nature of his occupation and called home a few times in a month. I had always been with my mother: I got too used to not seeing my father to really care about his absence. It was also a good thing he was never always there; his presence made his absence so much more obvious and I didn't want that.

"How can we be so different?"

"Dad visited us a couple of times before and he gave us our weapons and money and child-support checks …" I trailed off. "How is that personal to you?"

"You guys are all I have in my life," Luke stated blandly. He'd stopped working and he stared at his hands, his turned-up palms, as if reading his lifelines. "I'm not sure about this Camp you talk about, Taylor." He balled his fists. "It won't just be six of us anymore."

"You're scared we'll replace you," I realized, somewhat baffled and incredulous.

_stop, Luke, stop, you're becoming too human and real and reasonable for my tastes_

"… Yeah. I wake up every day and wonder if you guys got tired of me and left without notice. Ever since the visit to my mom's, ever since you saw … saw how bad she was, I thought—" he broke off, his whole person as broken as the end of his sentence.

_stop, please_

I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the cool mahogany wood, wishing that it wasn't a demigod whose emotional wounds smarted and refused to close and with perfect reasons to turn his back to the Olympians, who sat on the opposite end of the cupboard, hammering away into the night and wearing the face and skin of one I wanted to consider a dear friend and brother.

"Don't be silly," My voice came out as gritty as gravel, "we'll always be family, just as you promised Annabeth," and I tried to change the lie to truth.

**.**

"Luke!" I yelled, enraged as I seized the son of Hermes, trying to stop him from charging after the monster. I was breathless from the fight. "Enough," I ordered, unsure if he would listen. Luke turned a hateful glare in my direction, snatching his hand away from my grip. "What's wrong with you?"

He seemed so different from the boy who confessed that he feared he would wake up one day to find the rest of us were gone. I figured we could've left him now and he wouldn't care, consumed by his anger and recklessness as he was. "What did you think I was doing?" he snapped in response. "I was about to take care—"

"It's already weak and running for its life," I reasoned, glancing back to see the rest of the party recuperating. Alabaster offered Annabeth ambrosia while Thalia sipped her nectar.

Hal studied the both of us sadly.

"It'll recover and come back for us, I know it," Luke said, breathing heavily. He scowled into the distance. "Now, it's gone. Thanks to you."

He tried to step past me but I slid into his path, eyes narrowed. "Luke, you're... changing."

"How so?"

"Ever since meeting your dad at your mom's house, you've become... nuts."

Luke's cheeks blotted red. "You're saying I'm like my mom?" he nearly yelled.

"What's wrong?" asked Hal.

"It's nothing!" I waved them away, tugging on Luke's arm to lead him further away. "Is something bothering you?" I asked hopelessly. I didn't know how to snap him out of it: already, he was going dark, consumed by his hatred and anger. I never felt angry towards Zeus and I could never explain why.

I was content with my current companions. Zeus had helped when I'd prayed to him. I didn't dwell much on my dad since I was, oh you know, busy surviving the monsters that came at us.

"Nothing," lied Luke blatantly.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked, feeling that the answer would be a negative. "I know you're angry at your dad but venting your anger on the monsters won't help. He helped anyway, he gave you a weapon to defend yourself with and he delivered Hal a bow from Apollo. Er, that's not the point, what I want to say is... you've also been venting it on us. You're hurting us."

That finally seemed to make an impact: Luke blinked, his expression resembling that of someone having been hit by a hammer right between his eyes.

"I just— I didn't mean to," he muttered, louring down at our sneakers. The pairs were worn and darned.

"I'll knock you out the next time you do something as stupid again," I threatened.

He nodded miserably. Running a hand through his sandy blonde hair, he heaved a heavy sigh. "I— Taylor!" He pushed me away as something stumbled clumsily towards us. I heard the clopping of hooves and I raised my gaze, straightening. "Who...?"

"I'm Grover Underwood," the satyr said, revealing his horns and goat-half. "And I'm here to save you."

(In retrospect, it was dramatic and as a son of Zeus, I appreciated that.)

**.**

**Q:**_ Know any good, non-Dark!Harry/LV stories?_

**R&R**


	12. x

Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan

* * *

><p>Your Saving Grace<p>

* * *

><p>10.<p>

My breaths came out in sharp bursts of air. The spot behind my eyes throbbed painfully; my back seared as if it was on fire—a sure sign that Thalia was in mortal danger but there was nothing I could do about it, I was sure her back hurt as much as mine did as we were both stuck in the same situation. Screams, growls and roars echoed all around me, braiding into one wordless howl of dark threat: a cacophony to herald Thanatos as he floated about, unseen, waiting to see which one of us would fall in battle first.

I didn't dare glance back even as I urged Aellai to go faster. I was riding the storm spirit; we traded strength and energy to keep her running ahead of the swarm of monsters. Behind us, the chariot thundering after Aellai, carried six, threatened to give away into splinters of wood.

The number of monsters had increased radically. Where there used to be half a dozen in three days, it was a dozen in one day.

Just last week, we were nearly surrounded and inundated. We had fled and this was the result: a horde of them ganging up on us. I didn't know monsters valued teamwork; for your information, their teamwork was nearly flawless, especially those of the same species.

"We're close now!" shouted Grover, trying to encourage Aellai I supposed but she was already tired, ran ragged since last night.

The biting wind of winter was not helping my frozen fingers. I hated attacks in winters the most: not only did Thalia and I have to celebrate our birthday (we just turned twelve by the way) by running from monsters, unable to even buy a cake, we had to be fighting for our lives and watch as our blood color the white of the snow.

I felt that _Happy Birthday_ was overrated in this sort of situations.

Aellai neighed: she couldn't do it anymore. And she wasn't the only one at her limit: something cracked, like a gunshot (believe me, I'd heard it before, aimed at me), and I turned just in time to see the chariot giving away, my friends flung backwards.

"Aellai, stop!" She was so tired she couldn't maintain her form: her body twisted into air and electricity, zapping me to energize me one last time, before disappearing into the wind.

I drew my saber, charging forward, to deflect the Fury from clawing Hal's face off. Hal's bow was broken already, thanks to the Cyclops.

"Keep running!" shrieked Grover. "Camp Half-Blood is just over there! Help's over there!"

"There's nothing behind us!" yelled Thalia as she electrocuted a hellhound and—tried to—speared it. Luke lunged and body-tackled the second hellhound from snapping her up; he'd lost his sword _again._ My ADHDH brain complained: someone needed to teach that guy how to handle his sword properly, like keeping a firm grip and not drop it, etc.

"Grover, lead Hal, Anna and Bast to Camp!" I ordered, struggling against the weight of two Furies combined.

"But—but I'm supposed to protect the children of Zeus," he bleated, dark eyes wide and fearful and so uncertain my heart nearly broke for him. If I hadn't been slapped away by a Cyclops, I would've said sorry. As it was, I felt very sorry indeed for myself.

"JUST GO!" screamed someone—Thalia or Luke, I couldn't tell anymore. My ears were ringing from that blow; I was dazed; icy sheets of wind tried to blanket me, freeze me to the ground maybe but a voice screamed in my head, urging me to get up and keep fighting.

The tinny voice sounded a lot like Thalia.

These past two weeks since meeting Grover had been the hardest, most challenging of my life. I was world-weary: I hadn't got a good night's sleep ever since.

I didn't blame Grover. I suspected he found us only because he tailed the monsters to reach us but I wondered if the whole Camp knew of our existence and because of that, Hades had found out.

I ducked, rolled beneath the hellhound and stabbed. It disintegrated—well, good, about a dozen more to go. I staggered to my feet, spitting gold dust, and swung my saber, catching the Cyclops' club and flew back a few feet. I stumbled, trying to catch my footing. I checked to make sure my saber hadn't cracked yet.

In a split second, I registered where Thalia and Luke were: Annabeth, Hal and Alabaster were gone, absent from the scene and I hoped Grover had the sense to come back for us with reinforcements.

"Lia, Luke, come on!" I shouted, raising my voice to the brink to be heard. My sister heard me, she nodded curtly and swept her long spear, keeping the monsters away by a seven-foot radius.

Luke had Thalia's Aegis as a temporary weapon and defense; he swung the shield and slammed it into a Fury's head before he took off after Thalia. I took the rear, acutely aware of the blades the icy, winter air formed: they dug into my skin, frosted the weariness into my bones, rusted my limbs.

I kept stumbling; I couldn't seem to run anymore.

Of course, that was when the earth chose to rumble and explode.

* * *

><p>(Looking back on it, I would say it was very ironic. Being nearly killed by the same monster twice, indirectly or not, was definitely ironic. Yeesh. I might've gone down as Taylor Twice-Killed: horrors of horrors. The only thing that could make it was worse was to be remembered as Teddy Twice-Killed—)<p>

* * *

><p>The incredulity, sheer impossibility, of what I was seeing stunned me so much it cost me precious time that could've been used to escape. The Fury's whip cracked across ice and air and tore me a new one: strips of blood colored my previously blue shirt.<p>

I screamed, electricity arcing off me but the Fury only backed away, unaffected like lesser monsters were by the volts lashing at her body.

Luke yelled, "A freaking drakon!"

Even as he said that, he sounded like he was confused himself. I mean, this monster didn't have any legs for one … not that I was complaining about the lack of claws.

"Drakon?" hissed the Fury in front of me, cackling. I stumbled back, and Thalia was there, arm around my waist as she tried to support me and pull me along. "Not quite, sky spawns. Lord Hades revived him especially for you—he was slain by a son of Zeus once—let's see if a son of Zeus can do it again! Mighty Python, these are the brats of Zeus!"

"Python?" Thalia and I echoed in unison, spluttering incredulously.

"Run!"

I tried to shove the pain away but failed horribly: I kept running, hand practically frozen in Thalia's. I only heard, very distantly, of a tree being uprooted. "Dive!" screamed Luke, a couple of feet ahead of us.

Thalia tackled me as the tree the Cyclops flung came close enough to flatten us into pancake. Luke shouted in pain, disappearing beneath the branches, the remains of autumn leaves clinging to the branches floated pathetically on the ground. I couldn't help but imagine that was how we were going to be in a couple of seconds.

"Luke, are you OK? Where're you hurt?" demanded Thalia, eyes wild as she struggled to pull Luke out from under the tree.

"He's trapped?" I called back as the Python loomed overhead: sixty feet in length, skin as thick as a school bus combined, yellow eyes as slits as it glared down at me. The Python's forked tongue could have encompassed a dozen of me and Thalia's.

Thalia had pulled Luke onto her back. "No, but unconscious. Teddy, come on!"

Our chances of escaping were very remote.

Inexplicably, Hal's words from so many months back echoed in my mind: _you would do what you must to spare the person you love the most._

Who did I love the most?

Myself? Mom? Jason? No. The answer was painfully obvious, I was an idiot for pondering it in the first place: Thalia. And I knew her fate, her loneliness and pain, all those years—five painful, lonely years as a tree while her best friend goes dark.

"_Ted, come on_!"

My saber hit the hilt of the Fury's sword, I twisted and her sword went skittering. I swung and she burst into sand. A hellhound howled and I saw more emerging from the shadows cast by the setting sun that was nearly hidden behind the clouds: it was calling for reinforcements when I had yet to see any demigods charging out to help us.

I couldn't see any pine trees—and my heart sank at the thought of losing Thalia for so long—and my subconscious told me there would be one soon. It wasn't helping me to organize my thoughts into something more coherent.

I knew, in that moment, I wouldn't be able to bear it.

"Lia, go, just go!"

Another tree uprooted and flung through the air by the fifteen-feet tall Cyclops; this was my last glimpse of Thalia: blue eyes boring into mine, pleading, _please no_ and my eyes conveyed the same message over and over and the tree landing as we dived in opposite directions: her, to Camp Half-Blood and me to the monsters.

The Python bore down on me and the sky disappeared.

It happened in a few seconds: if I had leaped to either direction, I would've been bitten in half, so I just jumped. The next thing my feet touched surface, it was a moist, uneven surface and the roof brushed the top of my head. I was in the Python's mouth; that thought didn't register until I stabbed the saber into the surface, struggling to find a handhold.

The Python thrashed, shrieking and hissing, air rushed in when it opened its mouth to dislodge me. It straightened completely as I felt my whole body shift and fall downwards, to where gravity tried to pull me into the Python's gut. This was surreal, I had time to think, courtesy of the ADHD, I didn't think I would be hanging in a monster's mouth.

The Python shrieked once more, caving and curling to its ordinary S to gain a breather. I flew forward, jarred by the impact. _Come on, where were the other demigods? Dying here!_

I could barely breathe—there wasn't enough air to levitate around here—and the Python had yet to open its mouth for me to fall through. I didn't dare pry those fangs—something sparkled in the dark and it seemed a lot like liquid poison. I acted impulsively: ripping my saber from where it was lodged into the forked tongue, I angled the blade to point upwards and stabbed. The roof of the Python's mouth gave slight resistance before my saber punched right through to the hilt.

The following sound nearly deafened me: the monster's whole body shook and I clung on, fingers sore and pained, as it hissed. Then it stilled and fell, sideways. I had never been gladder that my saber had a fancy knuckle guard for me to cling onto. Also, the image of my skin melting off my bones if I came in contact with the acidic poison gave me energy to hold on.

I felt faint from the lack of oxygen. Wish Annabeth was here … to come up with a freakin' plan to … to … get out.

Black spots danced tauntingly before my half-closed vision. I would've been glad to pass out once I get outside. The Python had barely disintegrated when someone dragged me through golden sand.

"Ugh," I groaned, unable to murmur my gratitude. I cracked an eye open, feeling the hands on my biceps to be too claw-like for my tastes. The demand for them to be gentler died out when I saw who held me steady: the Furies. Two held me steady on my knees, the third lazily drew my saber and examined it.

"Well, well, well," she drawled, "if this saber can slice a Python through like butter, I don't see why not a demigod."

_Nononono—_She lunged, _my_ saber angled forward—

I screamed.

**~{X}~**

This was the last time Thalia heard her brother's voice: a battle-cry cracking in despair with the knowledge that it was a futile battle. The Python was still visible, tall as it was but it disappeared from sight when it dived in for the kill, but the oak tree the Cyclops had thrown obscured the thrower itself.

Thalia was dragging Luke, half-running, half-crying as the snowstorm pounded harder. The words that spilled from her frozen lips were a blur of her brother's name and cries for help and inserted in between were what she wanted to tell her twin but no chance came.

Thalia didn't have a clock, her heartbeat pounding counted the time for her and it was the longest, most torturous moment of her life.

Six beats — her ears caught the sound of human footsteps thundering towards them. Eight beats — the demigods emerged, armed, bows taut and swords drawn. Ten beats — someone supporting her, removing Luke's weight from her, someone seizing the back of her collar to stop her from charging back. Twelve beats — _happy birthday, brother_ and her back seared so painfully it dominated every sense, every nerve that her brain ordered to move and she crumpled, senseless.

"Ted … Teddy—" Thalia gasped out, she grabbed the wrist of the camper whose hands glowed gold. "I want my brother."

"You mean that blonde guy? He's OK, we just—"

"No! Not Luke!" she screamed. "The boy fighting those monsters — _where_?"

"Chiron!" someone cried.

Through blurry eyes, she saw six, then ten arrows sprout in the back of the Furies' back. Each screeched and burst into golden sand. The battlefield was oddly silent. "Carry me there," Thalia ordered, voice weak despite her efforts to stand and how hard she writhed against the healer's hold.

"Fine!"

"There's a kid!"

Thalia was leaning heavily against the healer and she got close enough to see this: bright, miniature white dots formed above her brother's head, connecting at the joints, it formed an eagle, and wings spread as if in flight. Thalia dimly realized there was a thunderbolt formed above her head instead.

The white-blue of the symbol of claim contrasted heavily against the blood pooling beneath Teddy. Thalia staggered towards her brother, feeling something within withering, as she encircled her arms around the too cold, too young, too dead body. Something prodded her fingers, her neck and instead of pulling away, she rested her head on the blood-stained saber, her neck dangerously close to the edge.

The clopping of hooves on the ground made her tighten her grip, shielding him from sight.

"Daughter of Zeus," rumbled the centaur Chiron, voice sagging with grief and pity, "Please release him."

"No," she protested but fingers came to rest on her shoulder, applying gentle pressure and pulling, "No!" she screamed, in defiance of that order, in horror as her brother's fingers sunk into the ground.

Gasps of shock broke through the demigods gathered: roots shot out of the ground, Chiron forcefully ripped Thalia away before she could be caught in the onslaught of roots that encompassed Taylor's body and shot upwards, branches growing in split seconds and petals blossoming regardless of the season, raining down on the demigods like tears, dotting the snow blue.

Thalia wasn't a plant expert (she failed Science anyhow) but she thought it was a wisteria tree, the color of its petals the exact shade of Taylor's eyes. She thought this sort of tree only had purple petals.

For every fallen petal, a tear dripped down her cheek: this was her father's last gift to Teddy.

**~{X}~**

It was repugnant: the saber that protected Taylor for years being his death sentence and it was embedded in his tree, unable to be removed. Thalia had tried and even Chiron did but eventually, he had to physically separate her from the wisteria tree.

Thalia was shown to Cabin One, Hal led to Apollo Cabin, while Annabeth was to be in Cabin Six; at least Alabaster would have Luke with him in the Hermes Cabin. Everyone had been claimed the moment they stepped through the boundary line.

Thalia heard whispers about the broken pact but she felt numb all over, she couldn't help but think of how much easier it would've been to endure the campers' stares and whispers, how much easier it would've been to get over a brother's death together.

Then she remembered: she had no more brothers.

That thought hit home hard and she cried like she'd never cried before. Even her mother's embrace would soothe this ache in her but Taylor had never told her where their mother was. For the first time, Thalia wanted to look for her mother. Her mother had Teddy's face.

Spring broke through before Thalia finally stood: her heart broken into shards, melted, then molded together into something stronger, tougher and better.

Thalia folded up the memory, containing a picture of the Grace family and the ragtag family of six, snipped the edges of her jagged heart and chipped frozen tears away with Teddy's funny scissors.

She stood and she walked out and sometimes, when she was very tired, she sat beneath her brother's tree and counted the number of tears he was crying, trying to tell which was teardrops of joy for their survival and which was the bitter tears of someone who hated their fate.

Back against the tree, she heard that voice crept into her mind.

It promised glory, power, a better world, a better life and most importantly, the Lord of Time promised Taylor and Jason and all she needed to do was turn her back to her father.

It should've been the easiest thing she'd ever done because he had never faced her in the first place.

**~{X}~**

Annabeth was closer to Thalia sure, but she'd always liked Teddy. He was her second-favorite, next to Luke. She could always braid his shoulder-length hair and whenever she had a nightmare, he would always be the first to wake and comfort her. It was a nice sentiment to ignore the fact that Teddy was a light-sleeper, unlike the others, and the slightest sounds could've awoken him.

Annabeth could ignore how Teddy sometimes made stuff up to fill the blanks he didn't know the answer to and would stubbornly insist he was right, how he kept teasing Annabeth about her crush on Luke, how his grammar was wrong sometimes and how annoying he was when he chastised them and went all mother-bear (or Hitler Version II, as Thalia liked to call it) on them.

She wanted him back.

Annabeth woke up screaming every night ever since Half-Blood Hill, hands stretching and groping for the comfort of someone who would never be able to offer it again.

**~{X}~**

Alabaster had been the longest and closest to Taylor, next to Thalia, and his loss hit the young son of Hecate harder than it would've been for Hal, Anna or Luke. His grief could never match Thalia's; he wasn't even _that_ close to the daughter of Zeus.

But when he was cajoled by Chiron into inviting Thalia to dinner and when that failed, to bring dinner to her, he saw her for the first time and realized just how similar to her brother she was.

It was the eyes that did Alabaster in: Thalia opened the door, gazed down at Alabaster with her red-rimmed blue eyes, and he tackled her into a hug before he knew it.

He sobbed into her shoulder and when she wrapped her arms around him in comfort, it felt exactly like when Taylor had held him to keep him warm in winter when the sleeping bag just didn't do the job.

**~{X}~**

Hal saw how each camper involved, who had been in vicinity whispered about the son of Zeus, the claiming, the wisteria tree, the new barrier that protected the campers; there were blames assigned upon themselves. There was an air of gloom and fear and doom. Hal attributed it to the rain that fell, thunder that boomed and lightning that struck trees and left scorching marks upon the grass: the unspoken punishment for allowing the son of Zeus to fall in battle.

Hal was fit to only train in archery and participate in activities that weren't too tasking for one of his age. He threw himself into these activities vigorously and spoke and answered questions and explored the camp. He might not have known Taylor as well as the rest, but the impression he got from Taylor was this: such sadness because of him would've made him uncomfortable, burdened him and irk him even.

He wondered if he could claim to be the boy's friend when he was decades his senior and how he had kept his mouth shut about the boy's future, knowing full well the son of Zeus would never set foot in Camp that he had been eagerly anticipating to see. Of all of them, Taylor had been the most eager; it was most ironic fate he could've had and his own weapon had killed him.

Luke had come and told him, in a hollow sort of voice, that it wasn't his fault: preventing someone's death would mean certain death for the son of Apollo this time and that was certainly not a fate anyone would want.

Hal handed Luke his diary: Taylor had wrote in it before and he had never read it. The son of Zeus never mentioned it but Hal felt that it was most certainly for the son of Hermes.

"Read it when the time is right," said Hal.

"How do I know when?" Luke's voice was as unsteady and weak as ceramic plate was balancing on a cow's horn; threatening to fall and break at any given moment.

"You'll know."

**~{X}~**

Grover was groveling for forgiveness every time he saw the five of them, whimpering and he looked nearly as bad as Luke felt.

The son of Hermes wanted to assign blame even though he knew it was unfair to judge when he had also been at fault. He'd passed out when he was needed the most, he had as good as sign Taylor's death warrant. Seeing Annabeth, Thalia, Hal and Alabaster made his heart ache.

There was a spot between him and Thalia—and Luke imagined the same chasm spanning between him and Taylor months before the son of Zeus had tentatively allowed a frayed rope to be thrown over and slowly, that rope had lengthened, thickened and came to bound a bridge to allow the son of Hermes through.

Luke told Grover it wasn't his fault. It was certainly not Thalia or Annabeth or Alabaster at fault. Hal might be, but that was just like blaming Luke and Grover.

He couldn't bring himself to blame his friends so he painted everything on the Olympians—they'd all been claimed the moment they walked through the boundary line which meant there were more than a handful of deities watching their struggle, and if the gods were watching, why hand't they done anything? He blamed Zeus and pitied Taylor who had so much faith in his dad and was let down in the end.

Taylor was as good as dead—his dad preserved him by turning him into a tree: yeah, much good it did for his son. Wasn't it the same myth as Daphne's myth?

The wisteria's petals hadn't stopped falling: every drop, every crunch of petals beneath the foot of someone who obviously didn't care about the son of Zeus' sacrifice, and Luke felt something in his heart hardening, the voice in his head getting louder, and every iota of hatred increased.

Towards these children who lived in the delusion their parents loved them and clung onto hope without doing anything to make their dream a reality.

And most of all, to those who never cared to make their children's dreams come true.

**~{X}~**

I was lost, in a dark, hazy, evanid world that had no end and no escape. It shook me badly how nebulously defined it was here: an amorphous world that threatened to make me another one of its indistinct figures that flickered in and out and never staying. It took me longer than normal to remember my name.

Grace.

Unfamiliar; I caught the passing figure of a woman. She was a shade with no face and no distinct appearance beyond the outline of her figure, ringlets of her bangs fell from the elaborate bun she'd pulled it into. She was always at the edge, uncertain and hovering, as if she didn't know what to make of me but she knew me.

Thaddeus Grace.

Now that was more like it. I saw the figure of a man this time. Words were absorbed by this void but this shade was braver than the female shade; he stretched his hand and held my hand. A single touch and he elucidated my entire being: I gained a more solid form and I felt more sure of myself this time.

I felt the mist lifting.

It was a long time between the visits of the shades that must've been important people in my human life—and in between, I heard snippets, caught vague presences, and a mother's desperate scream to ensure her son's safety—but I was uncertain. I wanted to do something, anything.

I always waited for them. A girl, a boy, a girl, an old man, and a boy again.

_Teddy, I'm going to go. I'll come visit someday._

_Taylor, I swear, I'll—I'll make sure your sacrifice was never in vain._

Taylor. That's right. That was my name: the talisman I clutched through the uncertainty, the one I counted on to prevent me from dissolving into the vague nothing, the reminder that there were people waiting for me and all I had to do was_wait_.

_I loved you, but it doesn't matter anymore, does it? You would've agreed with me._

_This is only right._

I could not see but I imagined a blonde boy and blue eyes raising the blade, the silver metal smoking in coated poison. He plunged it down before I could scream a warning.

This world numbed every feeling: now there was only pain. It sliced through the thick mist, jagged, sharp and pointed: thousands of blades that pierced every gap in my spine, severed nerves, and embedded itself into my organs, tearing tissues to reach there. If I had had my voice, I would've screamed.

My body flickered, uncertain of itself, uncertain of this wrongness: this illness, poison that seeped into every pore of my being. This world was covered in a thick cloth of misery and I was just another piece of misery sewn into its hem; my pain did not matter to it.

"Brace yourself."

Crack — the sound of something being uprooted. I counted my heartbeats: the number of beats timed how long it took to uproot everything.

Six beats — my arm tingled, I glanced down and noticed it flickering, disappearing but no fear arrive to seize my heart; somehow, I knew this was going to happen and this _should_ happen. Eight beats — feeling flooded into my limbs, blood circulating and I felt air brushing my face for the first time in forever. Ten beats — my heartbeat grew louder, someone slipped their fingers into my fingers, squeezing in reassurance and pulled me from the void. Twelve beats — I woke up.

**.**

It was unlike any awakening I had ever gone through before. Every muscle and bone in me groaned, protested and creaked like lousy, age-wrecked floorboards. My eyes were heavy as elephants but somehow, miraculously, I managed to force them open and the sunlight nearly blinded me.

I made a soft noise of discomfort. My skin tingled, as it always did when a lot of people were watching me. My head was a muddled mess, nothing made sense; thoughts _lia, jay, are you okay?_ names_thalia, jason, beryl, annabeth, alabaster, luke, hal_ and events _dying, monsters, so many of them_ collided in a waterfall of incertitude, crashing down onto me.

I angled my head away from the glaring sunlight, eyes darting about. The first thing I saw, vision dotted by black spots from the glaring sun, was a pair of sea-green eyes. They seemed very familiar.

"Hey, my name's Percy Jackson," said the owner of those pretty eyes. "What's your name?" Even as he spoke, realization broke through the cloud of uncertainty in his eyes.

"Taylor Grace," I rasped. This was my voice? "Son of Zeus," I felt that was important enough to add, it was a part of my identity, I had to acknowledge it to be able to live as me, as Taylor Grace.

He offered his hand. I took it; his grip was firm and he pulled me to my feet. "Thalia?" My eyes focused on the blonde girl who had knelt beside me. Her grey eyes were wide with surprise, disbelief and uncertainty. "Annabeth? You look … gosh, you're … how long has it been? Why am I smaller than you?"

The clopping of hooves made me turn my head, ignoring the silent stares of the campers that pierced me from all sides, and I saw a wizened middle-aged man with the upper-half of a human and the lower-half of a horse. Somehow, I failed to be surprise. I leaned pretty heavily on the boy—Percy—and when I staggered, Annabeth came up to my other side and supported me.

My lips twisted into a wry smile. "Chiron, right? I've read about you."

"Campers," the centaur called, stamping his hoof for attention. "Please return to Camp and resume your activities. Will Solace, if you'd please? Silena, please send an IM to Hal, I'm sure he'd be delighted to hear about Taylor's resurrection."

"Lia," I murmured, frowning. "Where's my sister?" My face must've conveyed how pathetically confused I felt because Annabeth's voice was very tender.

"Ted … Taylor, you missed so much. It's time we fill you in about these past six years."

**~{X}~**

* * *

><p>Sorry for the long wait. :P Did anyone see this coming? What theories can you offer?<p>

**R&R**


	13. xi

Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan

* * *

><p>Your Saving Grace<p>

* * *

><p><strong>11.<strong>

I sat numbly in the Big House, in Chiron's spare wheelchair as my legs were too weak to support me and my pride made me vehemently refuse to be carried by the son of Poseidon. I didn't feel any iota of assurance when it was Mr. D who would be checking on me.

I got the feeling he disliked me. "It's normal," Percy Jackson promised. "He's like this twenty-four hours all year-round."

Mr. D shot him a filthy look for that, snapping his magazine close and flicking my forehead with his index finger. My back thumped softly against the wheelchair, he had not hit hard enough for me to cry out in pain though Annabeth scowled darkly.

"Mm. This kid's mental health is in top condition, a little confused but nothing radical," concluded Mr. D, shrugging unconcernedly. "I dare say he's saner than some kids brought to Camp and _they_ hadn't been turned to trees by their fathers."

"Mr. D," exhorted Chiron, tone weary. "Percy, Annabeth, why don't you two bring Thaddeus to Zeus Cabin?"

Percy moved, about to push me but I slapped my hand against the table and forcefully pushed myself to my feet. I grimaced at the feeling in my legs: they felt like jellies and I was lugging myself through a swamp. I gritted my teeth, remaining on my shaking legs through sheer will and stubbornness.

Dionysus snorted. "Just go, Tennyson."

"Thaddeus," I corrected but he ignored me.

"Teddy—" My annoying, immortal half-brother snorted loudly at that thought. I cleared my throat, annoyed, and leveled Annabeth a decent enough glare. "Taylor, are you sure? It's pretty far off."

"I'm fine," I insisted as I took one shaky step away from the table, acutely aware that even Mr. D was watching me. "Perfectly fine."

Of course, I had to fall flat on my face. I groaned. "Peter, take that boy out and get his sorry ass out of my sight." Mr. Dr flipped the page of his magazine as he spoke, voice lazy but distinctly amused.

"Yes, sir. And it's Percy Jackson, _sir_." His voice was punched full of sarcasm and though I did not know him, I felt a surge of pride for this boy who stood up to that pissy immortal jerk. I grinned at my cousin and he returned the gesture; I felt the ice breaking.

It took me a few tries before I could walk properly again and even then, Percy had to hold my arm, steadying me when I stumbled and helping me up when I fell or to stop me before I fell. I glanced at him, not being subtle as I studied his fine jaw, tan face framed by black hair and sea-green eyes unreadable as he eyed me with open curiosity.

"So, Percy …" I started awkwardly. "This is the first time I've met a cousin. I mean, I know I have a lot through Dad but still, to be able to meet one who isn't out to kill me is actually a…"

"Nice experience?" he supplied, smiling to dispel the dicey atmosphere between us.

I nodded. "It's nice to meet you, Percy," I said, and felt that it was the truth and solid statement among the sea of confusion I was still wading through. I smirked to myself: well, he was a son of Poseidon after all, if anyone could help me out of the sea, he could.

**.**

"There're some things you need to know," Annabeth announced as she stepped into my cabin. Percy and I had just been in a staring-contest with Hippie Zeus, laying on our backs on one of the beds in the cabin, and practically wasting time when she'd entered. "It's about Thalia … and Luke and Alabaster."

My heart leaped like a gazelle at the thought of seeing my sister again. "So?" I spoke and was proud of how my voice didn't betray my weakness. I caught the other two demigods exchanging glances though. I made a mental note to tease them mercilessly later. "Why aren't they here? Isn't it … summer?"

"A few years back, just the day before Thalia turned sixteen, the Hunters of Artemis came—"

"Hunt?" echoed the son of Poseidon blankly. He looked to Annabeth for an explanation.

"The followers of Artemis," I elaborated and he turned his head to look at me again. "They're virgin maidens around twelve to fifteen in appearance but can actually be over a century old. They've sworn off men and utterly hate boys but they're immortal, they only die in battle. And Thalia hates them, last time we encountered them, she was practically exchanging poison with their second-in-command."

Annabeth shifted her feet awkwardly. "I was supposed to join Thalia."

Beside me, still lying on the bed, Percy jerked so violently he nearly fell off the bed. I snorted. "Then why didn't you?"

"I wanted to be older, so my body would be stronger before I join and become immortal and stuck at a certain age forever," explained Annabeth. "Thalia joined. The Huntresses of Artemis came personally to make her an offer and Thalia didn't want the pressure on her shoulder so she went."

"It's because of some Great Prophecy," Percy butted in. "You know what it's about?"

"No, no one ever told me about it," I answered honestly, lips twitching. Sure, I've never heard of it, but I read about it. I knew its contents and I knew how everything would turn out to be fine. "You ever met my sis, Percy?" Percy and Annabeth dark foreboding looks that made my gut clenched. "We're twins," I continued, gripped by sudden panic I could not suppress or talk myself over. "But I look … what, thirteen? And she's fifteen."

"She's— I'm not sure she's immortal anymore." I sat up abruptly, alarmed. Annabeth winced. "I think you should lie down, Taylor …"

"What happened?"

"They've been cohorts for years," Annabeth spluttered helplessly. "Luke and Thalia. Even when Thalia joined the Hunt, they kept in contact. After Luke stole the Lightning Thief, Thalia deserted the Hunt with a couple of Huntresses that had the same idea. We met her on board the Princess Andromeda and … she nearly killed Percy, Teddy, she's changed since you … since she thought you died. Either her or Luke poisoned your tree."

I stared between Percy and Annabeth, torn between screaming and laughing: was it April? Maybe they were joking. But I knew, from their looks and how Percy rubbed the scar on his hand unconsciously. They were concerned: their eyes said as much.

"I … " I ran a hand through my hair. "I definitely did not see that coming."

Thalia was fighting on the opposing side? Somehow, that thought did not compute. It did not click. Maybe she was a spy? Thalia was brave and loyal, especially to her friends.

Well, Luke was her significant other and Alabaster tagged along.

What about Hal?

I turned to Annabeth, feeling quite suspicious even though I wanted to believe in her loyalty. "What about you?" I asked bluntly. Thalia was her hero, if my twin was on the opposing side, who was to say Annabeth wasn't a spy?

Annabeth frowned. "What do you—?" It clicked in her mind. She sprang to her feet in a blaze of fury and hurt, grey eyes flashing—something I had not anticipated. She was suddenly a tigress instead of the kitten I'd looked after a few years back; she was fierce and I was cowed. "I can't BELIEVE you! You—_YOU_ of all people doubting me?!"

I raised my hands defensively in reflex, shooting Percy, the only non-participator in this argument, a look that begged for help but he shrank further into the bed, silent and staring, apparently startled by Annabeth's sudden change of mood. "Luke and Thalia believed that our parents didn't care about us! They're WRONG! Your dad turned you into a tree to _preserve_ you, my mom led me to you guys so I could _survive_."

Annabeth stomped her foot. She looked torn between tearing someone's throat out and crying. "But Luke didn't believe it. He kept whispering that in Thalia's and Alabaster's ears I bet—"

"You remained unconvinced," I interrupted. "You were … wise, as usual." I tried to smile, to placate her but it didn't seem to be working.

"Yeah, goddess of wisdom's daughter, remember?" Her voice was hard. She turned away, arms crossed. Percy shot me a reproachful, as if chiding me for my lack of tact. Like he was one to talk. "Fact is, Hal told me that someday, there'd be a hero who'd changed things for the better and I'd be there to help him achieve that. He told me to wait. Else, I think I would've gone with the old gang."

"What's old gang without me and you and … Where's Hal?" I asked, sitting on the next bed, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. "Is he okay? He strikes me as a neutral guy, so I don't think—"

"He's in the mortal world," Annabeth replied curtly, "he has a rather successful job as a pharmacist." I detected envy in her voice.

So, Hal's prediction had came to pass, I expected things to be slow and peaceful but that had evidently been a hopeless daydream. I didn't account for this … I gritted my teeth against the frustration, determined to ignore it and not let it out. But I had no reprieve: nothing to look forward to but seeing Hal and while I did like the old man as a friend, I wanted Thalia more than anyone right now.

Even Mom or Dad or Jason—gods, Jason! We would be the same age about now!—could compensate but I wasn't dreaming about it.

"Teddy, are you okay?"

"Anna," her name delivered in a sigh that could've been a cry of exhaustion and frustration, "when are you going to stop calling me that?"

Annabeth actually needed time to think about it.

"Well, Teddy, every time we said it, you always got this wry smile—like you want to hit us but can't summon enough energy and it's like you're laughing at yourself. I want to see your smile, wry or not, I missed it." I looked up when when her voice caught up at the end of the sentence. I pushed myself into a sitting position; her grey eyes were glinting with tears. "I missed your smile, Teddy."

I extended my arms, an invitation for a hug of comfort and she, ignoring the audience we had, came running, blonde hair and tears streaming behind her as she threw her arms around me.

She'd been so close ever since I was revived that I hadn't noticed how much I missed her.

**.**

It was awhile before the two left. Grateful as I was for their company, I needed time alone. Once they were gone, I went through every breathing exercises I knew of, trying to stop myself from passing out or hyperventilating. I think I was failing.

I ended up falling asleep.

And was woken up by someone knocking on my door. I let out a soft, groan, burrowing my face further into the bolster. I had been having a very nice sleep, no dreams to speak of, and whoever that was had to awaken me?

I raised my face enough to call, "Come in! The door's not locked."

I heard a soft click and forced my eyes open, wondering belatedly if I'd just invited an assassin into my room. It wasn't. I pushed myself into a sitting position when I saw troubled sea-green eyes. "Percy," I said, biting back a yawn as I rubbed my eyes, trying to bully my brain into functioning properly. "What're you doing up so late?"

I watched as the son of Poseidon shrugged awkwardly. "Actually, I came here on impulse. I couldn't sleep … not after— after arguing with Annabeth."

"What's it all about?" I asked.

Percy shrugged. "It's nothing. We argued about something small, it's pretty silly actually. I couldn't sleep alone. I used to think having a cabin all to myself is cool but it's just plain lonely—"

"And you think I can empathize since I'm sleeping alone?" I finished.

Percy nodded sheepishly. "Sorry if I woke you."

"You _did_ wake me. Reminds me of the days when Jason's an annoying baby," I muttered, wrinkling my nose. I experienced an odd moment where I wanted to cling onto the memory and push it away because both my siblings were there. Physically there, where everything was fine—or as close to fine as it ever would be. "Well, since we're both wide awake, why don't we go for a walk by the beach?" I had a feeling that his argument with Annabeth had been something more than silly.

I staggered out of bed, feeling cold, but ignoring it and stumbling towards Percy. Now that I was less disoriented, I realized that I was a few inches taller than him. I smirked.

"What?"

"Nothing," I said as we walked out of Cabin One, leaving the comforting sound of thunder rumbling to the sound of crickets chirping in the night. "Where's the beach?" I asked.

"This way," said Percy, tugging on my wrist and guiding me there.

"At least it's not so cold," I commented, toeing off my sandals and stepping into the sand. My feet were numb enough that I did not feel the texture of the sand. "Feel like talking?" I suggested. "Since we're both bored."

"I guess…" He paused. "No offense, Taylor, but what were you thinking when you decided to fight all those monsters by yourself on Half-Blood Hill? You didn't think you could win, did you?"

"I try not to think too much in battle and let instincts take over until I'm cornered," I admitted, drawing a stick figure in the sand with the tip of my finger. "It interferes with being nuts. But I'm not answering your question, am I? Actually, I was just thinking that I could stall—buy time—until help came. I didn't think I could win at all. I was horribly outnumbered and my sister and friend were about to die."

"Did you regret it?" persisted Percy curiously. "Especially since they … er, sorry."

I would've been happy if Luke died and I did regret … a little … okay, a lot but I wasn't about to tell Percy that.

"Nah." I scooped a handful of sand, watching as they fell through the gaps of my fingers. "I was thinking of how much worse it'd be if it was my sister sacrificing herself to see us to safety. I would be the one to spend years wondering if I'd ever see her again and it would've driven me _crazy_—to lose two siblings so swiftly after one another." As I spoke, the memories of the night Half-Blood Hill was named came back, clearer and sharper, as if I was reliving the moment again. "One of the Furies jammed a sword through my lungs I think … that's why there're tons of bloods on the ground." I shuddered. "The pain was so bad I wished someone could share the burden or alleviate me of it entirely."

A quick bath revealed a thin scar left by my saber on my chest. Speaking of my saber …

Percy winced. "That sounds… bad."

"Where's my saber?"

"Oh, you mean the sword in the tree?" I nodded, bemused but waited for his answer. "I used it to spear the Minotaur. Apparently, no one could take the saber until I came around …" he trailed off, realizing that this was not the answer I wanted and tried again, "I think Annabeth put it in her cabin. You should ask her."

I nodded, satisfied. I watched the waves lapping gently at the shore before speaking up again: "Want to build a sandcastle?"

"Er, seriously?"

"We have nothing to do and _you_ woke me up so you have the obligation to entertain me."

Fifteen minutes later saw to it that I had not architectural skills. "What're you making?" asked Percy incredulously from over his simple sandcastle. It was layers of bucketfuls of sand, so it looked more like a several leveled cake than anything. Deciding to spare his feelings, I did not comment on it.

"… Zeus' fist," I answered, coughing.

"Looks like a poop pile to me," noted Percy, barking a laugh.

I laughed nervously to cover up the lightning flashing above us. Percy did not look perturbed if he saw it. "What's that?" I asked, directing his attention to the glittering stars above our heads. Percy flopped onto his back, squinting at what I was pointing towards.

"Hercules, maybe?"

"I thought it was Perseus."

"Hey, that's my name, y'know? Full name."

"My full name is Thaddeus, it rhymes, doesn't it?" I flopped down beside him, tired, but struggled to stay awake to accompany my cousin. It was a tranquil silence. If only Luke, Thalia, Hal and Alabaster were here … Annabeth was just a few dozen feet away. But the distance between each of us seemed to be spanning a chasm. I exhaled softly, digging my fingers into the sand. Why did life have to be so complicated? "Do you think you'll be a constellation someday?"

"I dunno. If I die, will I live there forever? No Elysium? Sounds boring, dude."

"Perhaps not. I don't know," I admitted, unable to stop the yawn from accompanying and distorting my words.

"I bet you're tired," sighed Percy. "I'm starting to feel tired, too. But, hey, thanks for accompanying me. I heard children of Zeus were jerks … but you're nice. Is this just your thing? Your sister was pretty mean." That was putting it lightly. Thalia could be a demi-_demon_ when she wanted to be.

I wanted to say, "No problem, I needed this peaceful moment too, and I dunno about that, but Thalia had always been good" but sleep claimed me and the words were lost in the night sky.

**.**

It was Chiron who found us: asleep, limbs entangled and covered in sand.

"Both of you were lucky," he intoned, as we staggered to our feet and shook the sand out of our hair, but his eyes lacked any harshness. The pity in them for me was obvious at that. "Had the harpies found you, they would've devoured you two. Unaware and unarmed, that is."

"No," I said. The centaur arched a brow. "I have Aegis here," I tapped my bracelet to show him what I meant, "and my saber is … somewhere. Besides, Percy is near his domain." I pointed at the sea.

"Nevertheless, avoid repeating such late-night outings," Chiron continued. "Anyhow, I have to —Taylor, if you'd please stop tormenting that crab and listen—good. As I was saying, I would prefer it if Poseidon and Zeus Cabins go through the same schedule."

"Sure," I said, "I like Percy anyway. Annabeth warned me about how annoying he can be but he has yet to show any symptoms of Taylor-itis."

"What's that?" asked the son of Poseidon incredulously, plucking a snail out of his hair.

I laughed. "A quick disease that'd kill you. Piss me off and I'd punch your lights out. Sorry, that was lame."

Chiron rolled his eyes but Percy didn't seem to think it was lame. By the time we'd left the beach, Chiron trotting alongside, he'd came up with a Percy-itis and was describing all the effects and aftereffects.

I guess we were _both_ weird and lame. Don't forget that.

But I like him, even if he managed to push Thalia from the front of my mind with his laugh just for a moment.

**.**

"Wow, I think I've found someone way worse than archery than I am."

I groaned. "Shut up, Perce." But he was right. The body of the arrow had smacked me in the eye when I was trying to notch it and here I was, nursing my stinging, watering eye, after barely a minute into the archery lesson. I whimpered. "This was a brilliant plan of mine to play truant. I confess, I was amazed at myself."

"Yeah, right," said Annabeth's voice. I guess she'd heard me moaning and groaning from a few dozen feet away.

I scented burnt flesh. "Were you climbing the lava wall?" I asked.

"Yes. Percy, you better go, it's your turn. Taylor, you shouldn't." I removed the ice pack on my right eye, scowling at her. She answered the silent question, "Your legs are shaky, Tay, you really shouldn't. I don't think your dad will be too happy to find his son scorched into a crisp."

I wondered how many mortal—and the few godly—parents had sued this camp director. I coughed over a laugh.

The son of Poseidon shrugged. "Well, bye." Then he walked out of the infirmary.

"Your eye's pretty red, Teddy," commented Annabeth, leaning forward for a better look. "Are you sure you'll be alright?" I nodded dazedly. "So, Chiron asked me to ask you—was that confusing for you?"

I rolled my eyes. "I know I became a tree for a couple of years but that doesn't mean my brain is _still_ inside the tree. What did Chiron wanted to know?"

"You'll be a year-rounder, right? I mean, when we first arrived, Thalia said your mother was as good as gone."

I draped the ice-pack on my eye again, closing the other. I was steaming in anger: why did Thalia condemn our mother so often? I'd made it clear Beryl wasn't dead. Thalia probably wanted Beryl dead so much she believed it or she thought I was delusional (as she was adamant about) and considered Beryl alive. I contemplated her question and Annabeth—sweet, understanding Anna—understood and kept quiet, waiting for my answer.

A large part of me wanted to go to school, to the city and see how much the world had changed. A part of me wanted to retain my mortal life as much as the life of a demigod. "I want to go to school," I blurted out, removing the ice pack so I could look Annabeth in the eye. "I want to live a semi-normal life." There was a lump in my throat I could not properly describe: _please don't leave me here with people who don't understand me and will just gawk at me for being Luke the Lunatic's friend and Thalia the Traitor's twin._

"I've contacted Hal," Annabeth told me, "he lives in New York and he has an apartment of his own there. He's willing to let you stay with him … and he's old, I'll feel better to know you're there taking care of him."

I nodded. "You tell him that."

Annabeth smiled. "Hal can see the future, remember? He knew you were coming; he already decorated your room."

My leg twitched and jerked. I placed a calming hand on it. A pleasant tingle had spread from my chest (my heart) to the rest of my body: my legs seemed to be awakening. "Tell him thanks, then."

"Tell him yourself—Hal's missed you."

"I think I'll do that."

**.**

Hal looked the same as ever—old, wrinkly but lively and talkative—through the Iris Message. Reconciling and reconnecting with him made Luke's, Thalia's and Alabaster's absences more pronounced.

I could, of course, call her through the IM but a few things stopped me. I didn't know how to confront her; if it was her convincing me, I would surely betray Dad and the other Olympians. I could not envision Kronos and the Titans to be better rulers; perhaps in the first few centuries, but what about the later generations?

That was the _'honorable'_ answer.

And I would very much prefer to be on the winning side, which means siding with my dad and the Olympians. Being on the losing side would equate to a lifetime in Tartarus and I did not look forward to it.

How to convince Thalia of that?

The IM limited contact, though it could prevent violence on both parties, I felt that I needed to knock some sense into my sister which meant confronting one another face-to-face. Luke held some sway in Thalia's decisions because Kronos offered power—and there lay Thalia's fatal flaw—it probably blinded Thalia.

I wondered if ripping Luke's head off would solve the problem or set Thalia and I permanently apart.

That aside, I wanted to kill him after just imagining what he would be doing with my sister if they were really a couple already. Murder sounded like a very good option.

I glared at the rainbow: what, arrange a time and place to meet?

No … I weighed the remaining drachmas Chiron had given me, then tossed it into the rainbow again. "_O, Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, accept my offering_. Please show me my mother—Beryl Grace."

The image that appeared made me inhale a lungful of breath and hold it; my chest felt so full of air and longing, I felt my lungs would burst. "Mom!" I called before I could think things through.

The blonde woman turned. Beryl had not aged since I last saw her; I couldn't exactly remember what she was wearing when we first went but I didn't think it was this ice-blue dress that showed off all her assets. I gritted my teeth. I hoped she hadn't been flirting with men or worse, whoring herself. I liked to think Beryl had more class than that but how well had I known my mother?

Beryl squinted at me, light blue eyes unfamiliar. "You look … familiar, kid. Do I know you? And why the heck are you in a rainbow?" she asked incredulously, reaching out to touch.

"Mom, no! You'll break the connection—"

"Hey, Beryl," crooned a man. My lips pulled back into a murderous snarl when a man walked up to my mother and looped his arms around her waist. He heard the growling noises I was making and looked up. "Who's that?"

"No idea." Those simple two words, delivered so nonchalantly, stabbed me through harder than the Fury's sword had done; and here I thought the Python's poison was painful. I wanted to inhale the poison ten times through before I deal with this. Hopefully, I'd be dead or numbed by so much pain I wouldn't even feel this pain my mother had caused me.

"It's me. Taylor—Thaddeus—Teddy—your _son_!"

Beryl's eyes showed no comprehension. For the first time, I realized what it had meant for Luke, except that it had been so much worse for him and his mother. "Don't be ridiculous, kid. You've got the wrong person." Annoyed, she swiped her hand through the rainbow, breaking the connection and my heart in the process.

I knew my mom could always multitask.

My legs failed to support me and I seized the rim of the bathtub to stop myself from falling on my ass. I tumbled into the tub instead. I laid my cheek against cool porcelain and cleared my thoughts until my heartbeat returned to normal.

"Are you trying to drown yourself?" demanded a familiar voice. Strong, long fingers peeled me from the tub and into a sitting position. I frowned slightly as Percy's confused, concerned feature swam into view. "You know what? I'm not going to ask … until you're willing to tell me."

"Glad," I croaked.

Percy blinked, confused. "Sorry?"

I rested my forehead against my forearm, braced myself on his shoulder and choked out the words threatening to fade in my throat from the hurt, "Glad mom forgot me … and everything to do with Dad. He broke her heart so bad nothing in the world could mend it."

"Then why're you crying?"

I sighed. "I'm odd." I wanted to change the subject very badly. From that one question alone, I felt ashamed to the very core of my being. Why was I being so weak?

Percy threw a comforting grin. "Who said that odd is bad?"

**.**

During dinner, I sat back to back with Percy and though we couldn't see one another, it certainly felt less-lonely to be the only kid at your table.

I looked at my plate of food: vegetables of all kinds. A passing eight-year-old kid of Demeter's (his plate was full of meat; I heard that Demeter kids didn't eat vegetables, for reasons beyond me) stopped and stared. "Ew," he said. "You're evil."

I snorted. Percy rounded on the kid, but said nothing yet. "What makes you say that?"

The Demeter brat stared balefully at me. "That's cannibalism." And he walked off. Percy and I glanced at one another then burst out laughing.

"Kids are cute, I want to kill them anyway," I sighed dreamily. "Want some?" I offered the plate to Percy.

He grimaced. "Sorry, but no." In a lower voice, he added, "Probably Mr. D's sick idea of a joke. C'mon, we've gotta make sacrifices to the gods."

I managed to not trip over the bench—this was a first—and follow Percy to line-up. I stared at my plate, trying to dredge up a form of appetite. The thought of chewing and swallowing made my throat dry, my stomach seize up and made me feel mildly ill. I doubted I could even eat a tiny broccoli. The Demeter brat was right: this was cannibalism and if there was anything I wasn't, I was not a cannibal.

"Poseidon," muttered Percy, scrapping half of his brisket into the fireplace. He stepped away and returned to his table: it was my turn.

I stepped forward, gazing into the hearth. I wanted to ask for help, to seek counsel, some way to relieve this tumor of grief, frustration and rage I was feeling but couldn't put it into words. I scrapped the greenest piece of vegetable I could see and let it burn. "Zeus." Once I'd spoken, I caught the scent of wisteria, hyacinths, roses and flowers of every kind when it burned: _very funny, dad_. I looked at my plate again. Too much, I couldn't possibly eat it all. So I sacrificed more. "Hera. Hestia. Hades. Iris. Hecate. Hebe. Nemesis. Aeolus. Morpheus. Eros. Nike. Tyche."

Various scents I could not place drifted out of the fireplace. They were the nicest aroma I had ever smelled: the scent of Thalia's shampoo, the smell of Jason's cleanly washed onesies, my mother's perfume, the smell of my childhood home. My eyes stung.

"What're you doing?" hissed a girl's voice. I turned to see Drew Tanaka of Aphrodite's cabin. "Hurry up! Those minor gods aren't worth sacrificing to!" There was that tone of hers: something that made me want to hurriedly walk away. Charmspeak. I shook it off.

I felt very spiteful at that moment. "Notus," I enunciated slowly, "Boreas. Asclepius. Hypnos. Hygieia. Triton." My scraps and portions of sacrifices got smaller to stall but also because my plate was growing emptier and emptier. After the son of Poseidon, my knife scrapped an empty plate.

Drew sneered. "Great job, now you don't have anything to eat!"

"You aren't getting seconds!" called Mr. D from his table.

I shrugged and walked—very, very slowly mind you—out of the line, ignoring the stares that threatened to drill holes into me, and returned to my seat.

"Very funny," said Percy, holding his plate in hand. "Now come here, I'll share—" His stomach growled loudly.

I smiled. "No, but thank you. I think you should fulfill your tummy first. I'll eat your leftovers."

The son of Poseidon looked uncomfortable; he squirmed in his seat. "Er, I don't usually leave leftovers."

"Then don't." I sat down next to him. Mr. D and Chiron should be well-aware of that but neither said anything. Percy was obviously very hungry because he didn't leave anything, not that I wanted him to. I was very touchy about personal hygiene and sharing food was a big no-no. Not even my siblings were excused from this golden rule. "You should brush your teeth," I grumbled to Percy who winced. "There's chili stuck to your teeth."

"What, really? Why didn't you say so earlier?" Percy ran his tongue through his front row of teeth.

"Huh. I thought it was obvious. Why do you think Annabeth was smiling when you grinned widely at her?"

"Hey!"

I sniggered. "G'night, Percy. If you feel lonely again, feel free to drop by."

**~{XII}~**

* * *

><p><em>Some PercyTaylor interaction. Anyone interested in that pairing? Or do you vote for something else?_

**R&R**


	14. xii

Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan

* * *

><p><strong><span>-:- Your Saving Grace -;-<span>**

**_12_**

"I can run!" I crowed, delighted as I raced down the shore of the beach, the waves lapping at my ankles, leaving tingling sensation on my skin. I tripped over a particularly large crab, stumbled but Annabeth grabbed my arm and steadied me, looking mildly amused.

"Teddy …"

"Being a tree must really suck," commented Percy idly, catching up to us. "Shouldn't you be packing? We're leaving Camp in an hour."

"I already have my saber and shield. I have nothing else – these are your clothes remember?" I gestured to the loose-fitting jeans and shirt. Percy and I were built differently: I was slender, lithe and flexible, built like a long-distance runner with long legs so Percy's jeans fell short on me. Percy's build was more compact, his shoulders broader, more muscled. I blame being a tree for having so little muscles and I had no formal training anyway.

As my locomotive skills were still shaky, I was exempt from physical activities. I trailed after Annabeth and Percy when I had nothing to do or my legs would completely fail me and I had to sit down in the pavilion. Or maybe Percy would have canoeing lessons and he'd piggyback me onto one of the boats to join him. He was a nice kid – well, I'd handled Thalia before, he shouldn't be too hard to get along with.

He was watching me though. I knew, from his past encounters with Luke and Thalia, he didn't trust me; he suspected I might side with my sister and her boyfriend at the slightest prompting from them. I didn't blame him for that. Inwardly, I feared that would happen too.

To me, siding with family was the right thing to do. My principle was just hard to maintain because my family was divided and were fighting among themselves.

"Not exactly," I said laughingly, "though mobility is nice, the best thing is – that." I pointed up at the sky. An eagle momentarily blocked the glare of the sun was it spiraled overhead.

"Ugh, flying," muttered Percy in distaste. He showed as much enthusiasm for the skies as much as I did towards swimming even when he offered to be my personal instructor. I simply didn't trust him to not drown me. "Cool pigeon," he added when the eagle, without prompting, landed on my forearm.

The eagle shot Percy a look of loathing. "It can understand you, y'know." I stroked the eagle's bald head, fingertips tingling at the moment of contact – it induced pathos for reasons I couldn't explain and I watched the eagle more closely. It was a majestic thing with brown fur that glittered gold beneath the sun's splash of light. "He's a sacred animal of my father's."

"I remember," Annabeth piped up and I looked at her, "when your father claimed you, it was the symbol of an eagle. Thalia's was a lightning bolt."

"When did that happen?" I asked blankly.

"When you were, eh…" She trailed off awkwardly. I got it immediately.

"What does it mean though? Why the different signs?" Annabeth was smart but when she just shrugged, I wasn't all too surprised. There were too many reasons that were possible. Maybe Zeus thought it would be boring and awfully common if he claimed every kid with the typical lightning bolt and decided to try for an eagle – see which was cooler.

"Maybe," began Percy abruptly, hand reaching out to pat the eagle's head. "It's actually—"

A shriek and the eagle took flight, slashing at Percy's eyes. The son of Poseidon barely evaded it, stumbling back onto the sand. "Hey!" he complained.

"Taylor, where're you running off to now?" called Annabeth as I chased after the eagle. It flew low then – abruptly – it arced into the sky. A sudden sense of longing flared within me as it soared towards the clouds. I leapt after it without conscious thought.

And it was as the eagle and I looped around camp, skimming the sea, over the top of the forests, circling Zeus' Fist, me laughing, high on the ecstasy that was being enveloped in my father's domain, that I realized why I wanted to hold onto the eagle so badly.

He had my father's eyes.

(_"Dad … I love—")_

After my little detour, Annabeth shepherded me into Argus' van and we were shooting off into the city. It only took an hour – maybe, I was still thinking about my father, my mother and my siblings so I was heavily disoriented – to reach Hal's place. I think he lived close by because help could come sooner.

"Hal!"

Annabeth and I were as gentle as possible when we tackled Hal into a huge hug since he was an old man after all, laughing and stepping back. Annabeth released him but he didn't let me go. The old man swung me around before putting me down, hand still on my shoulder, squeezing—I saw it in his eyes that he did it to reassure himself I was human, skin and bones and life, and not a tree or a corpse reanimated.

The thought was so silly I grinned.

(I pointedly ignored the spaces between Hal and me and Annabeth where three people should be standing but they were not)

"I'm going to miss you …" I stopped, turned to Percy. "We _are_ going to the same school, right?"

"It'll be nice to have a definite best friend there," said Percy, grinning. The flicker of unease, mistrust disappeared as his eyes curved into identical smiles too. I estimated a few bumps in our relationship here.

But it let it pass for now: I pivoted on my heels to face Annabeth. "I'll miss _you_,__ then."

Annabeth laughed was watery as I allowed her to burrow her face into my shoulder. "See ya, Teddy!"

"I'm going to IM every day," she promised.

"That's good because I don't have a lot of drachmas," I said, waving to her as Percy closed the van door. I hoped those two started fighting again, if only to just annoy Argus. The hundred-eyed creature was a creation of Hera's, which meant that he hated my guts and caused as much trouble as much possible for me: which included sending harpies after me even though I did nothing wrong (as I was screaming for him to hear, and for Chiron to call the harpies off) and he probably convinced nymphs that I littered or something because I found my bed covered in mud ("KYAA! Cen – _CENTIPEDE_!").

I jogged after the van, waving until it sped out of sight. I exhaled, slightly wistful. "Love ya, sis." And I imagined Thalia hearing it, too.

"How heartfelt." I started when I heard the condescending voice. I wheeled around to stare. The sneer on her perfectly beautiful face seemed to accentuate her cruel beauty instead of depicting her a demon that she was to children of Zeus.

"Lady Hera, I mean, Your Highness," I muttered, numbed. I inclined my head politely, edging closer but not too close; Hera's eyes zeroed in on me like a hawk's and I was her prey. "What brings thee here?"

"Drop the sarcasm, boy," she snapped, crossing her arms. Her dress rippled with rainbow colors as she moved.

"I'm Taylor," I said, voice so carefully neutral it could've been mistaken for fake. "Not, boy."

"We need to talk," Hera announced imperiously.

"We are—fine. Whatever could this lowly demigod do for—" My sarcastic speech was cut off abruptly.

"I said, drop it," Hera snarled, hand shooting out so quickly I couldn't sidestep. I stared at her hands that suddenly resembled claws, wondering somewhat belatedly whether or not I had done the wrong thing provoking her. I didn't mean to. Her dislike seemed so childish to me that I felt the need to make fun. "In," she ordered shortly and hauled me into the restaurant (the doors flew open magically to admit us) and I could only see the Chinese signboard to register that this was a Chinese restaurant before we were in.

"Whatever it is I did," I mumbled as I was manhandled into a seat, "I'm sorry." The smell of Chinese food made my stomach growl loudly. "Sorry. What are we talking about here?"

"You've been sacrificing to me," she stated.

I shrugged. "I can stop if you want me to."

Hera scowled, but it was faint and contained much less contempt that I thought she could've mustered. I waited patiently for her to speak. A waitress started towards us but Hera waved her away. I studied my stepmother warily; her hair was blonde today, done up in an elaborate French braid, and her eyes glittered with power. Astonishing and worrying how this gorgeous lady could blast me to bits with a bat of her long lashes.

"The gods aren't supposed to break the ancient laws," she started, eyes flashing. I kept my mouth shut even though I didn't see how this pertained to me. "But my husband dear broke it to preserve you."

"Sorry," I said. I didn't like apologizing and very few people could garner an apology from me. But as this woman could kill me if she thought I was being rude, I felt that apologizing was a very wise thing to do.

"He also broke the oath when he sired you," Hera continued. "He kept breaking it—visiting you as infants—" I frowned, I didn't recall that, but Zeus might've came when I was asleep or my memory just wasn't as good as it was after so many years as a tree. "—being _there_ for your childhood. My husband never used to bother," she finished describing the examples in clipped tones. "He sired demigods and left them to their devices until they achieve something heroic. He paid even less attention to his godly children unless it was to assign punishments."

She sounded extremely bitter. "Actually, I saw him only a handful of times," I felt the need to placate her before she took that bottled-up ire out on me.

"Which is more than the number of times other demigods saw their godly parents."

"Oooh, good point."

Hera straightened, dress rippling again and I kept staring. "My point is," she paused for so long I wondered if she'd turned to stone. I cut my eyes back to her, noticed that she while she sat rigidly, she radiated power and regalia enough to ward off any curses, and looked out the window again. "The other gods are connected to the mortal world through their demigod children. As I have none of my own, and how family is mattering less and less these days …" She trailed off, eyes fixed fiercely on me.

Evidently, she wanted me to finish her sentence. I thought about it. "Um, you're weakening in power."

"No, you fool!" she snapped defensively, hackles rising. "How dare you insinuate that I—"

"Your power to influence the domains you govern is lessening with no sacrifices," I interrupted, "No demigods sacrifice anything to you."

Hera heaved a frustrated sigh. "Yes. No demigods live long enough to marry and settle down; no demigod asks for my blessing," she admitted, turning her head to look at a family of four sitting two tables beside us. I turned and looked too, wondering what she saw that had her captivated long enough to tone down her glare. "Fact is," she grumbled, voice lowering, "the consecutive offerings you gave me … well, the result is before you."

I stared at her. "Your eyes are in perfect symmetry once more?" I was puzzled. Her eyes expressed,_you idiot, not me_, so I scanned the area for something I should be seeing.

"You mean that family?"

"Yes, you dolt." Hera rolled her perfectly _symmetrical_ dark eyes. "That family. Two days ago, the couple was ready to divorce—"

"It happens frequently," I commented.

Hera plowed over my words: "—and after clearing up that misunderstanding, they have happily reconciled."

"Did you change their memories?" _That was a low move, lady._

"No, I merely influenced them enough to see reason."

"Offerings strengthen you so much?" I asked, surprised.

Hera nodded tersely. "There are dozens more of marriages I managed to salvage. They are all across the world, I couldn't show you all of them, but I at least want you to see one of them."

I studied the children, their joyful, innocent laughter ringing in my ears. I wanted that family to be the Grace family: it was the answer to my impulsiveness weeks ago when I first sacrificed to Hera. I slumped forward in my seat, forehead resting on the table. "Your powers are pretty great when you concentrate on your main job instead of your part-time work."

Hera snorted. "Making my husband's bastard offspring miserable is not a part-time work. It's a hobby."

"Is that a joke?" I cried, sitting up quickly.

Her lips curved into a thin smile, a sneer and a grimace thrown into a mixture and in came that result. "A fact, Taylor Grace. And—" Someone tapped the window urgently and I turned to see Hal tapping urgently on the glass, mouth agape, eyes wide with horror and concern. "I believe that is your cue," she said shortly, making the dismissal clear.

I stood, towering above her but not by much. There was still one matter: "Is my brother safe?"

Her form flickered—between Hera and Juno, I assumed. "He's alright."

I was pleasantly surprised by how willing she was to answer. I was suspicious, of course, but I decided that I would be pushing my boundaries if I questioned it. "Thank you." I smiled awkwardly at her. Then I walked out, without another look back.

I was guiding Hal across the street, ignoring his insistence that he needed no assistance (as he was rhyming), when I felt the sharp pain biting into my skin.

I glanced down, alarmed, and there, etched onto the red, raw skin of my hand was: _Champion of Hera_, in Ancient Greek.

**_-your saving grace-_**

"Did you cut yourself?" asked Percy as I met him at the school gates. I eyed the large, towering brown building apprehensively – it'd been awhile since I'd been to school. He poked my bandaged hand where Hera had carved those Ancient Greek words. It stung slightly but the pain had gradually lessened.

"Something like that," I answered vaguely. I inhaled and exhaled. "Well, here goes nothing." I tugged my sweatshirt together, closing the gaps and followed Percy inside.

School wasn't as bad as I'd thought. Percy clearly thought I wouldn't be able to keep up. He was partially right. I had memories of my prior life to give me a slight boost but my dyslexic made things pretty hard. The only classes I had the potential to excel in were algebra and aerodynamics (this came with being a son of Zeus).

I sat with Percy, rhythmically tapping his shoulder, letting my fingers dance around him. I didn't eat and I did not feel hungry. Coupled with the fact that I was sitting directly beneath the sunlight spilling in through the window, Percy felt the need to ask if the photosynthesis function was still installed within me after all those years as a tree.

I considered smacking him but desisted: I wasn't Thalia, I avoided violence as much as possible since if I joined the fray, things tended to go downhill; Thalia usually filled in the role of disciplining people with violence for me anyway. _Don't think about her_, I chided myself.

"It'd be quite cool," I admitted. "That way, I can save money." Truth was, I rarely felt hungry and even when I felt like eating, I ate small bites. No vegetables. The Demeter kid really made an impact on me with his innocent comment: I didn't want to be cannibal.

"Bro, it's not smart to starve yourself," said Percy, stuffing himself.

I cocked a brow when he called me 'bro'. The only one who'd ever call me that was Thalia and the other person who could would be Jason. I brushed it off. "I'm really not hungry. I'd just barf it all out if I was forced to eat it."

"Sucks to be you. No offense. But being unable to dredge up an appetite …"

"Yeah, bro," My voice was tinged with the slightest hint of sarcasm, "have fun finishing when there's only two minutes left of lunch break."

Percy and I didn't live that close to one another but it was accessible by foot. I had enough experience on foot to last a long walk to his house. The son of Poseidon wanted to hang out—a foreign concept to me who had no friends prior to this other than Thalia and the little entourage we'd amassed and that was a vagrant group-travel—and I'd said yes, not knowing what to expect.

So I went to his house and met his mother the instant I stepped through the door. I took an instant liking to Mrs. Jackson.

She was pretty for a woman her age. Her blue eyes glittered beneath the artificial lighting and her dark hair only had a few grey strands woven into it. Her smile was self-confident and warm. For one single second, I wished she was my mom. I extended a hand to shake but she enveloped me into a hug.

"It's nice to meet you, Taylor," said Sally, beaming as she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind my ear. "Percy's told me so much about you."

Her hug, I noted wistfully, was the warmest and most comforting I'd ever felt.

I was quite reluctant to pull back but Sally didn't say anything about that. Percy and I retreated to his room with the promise of blue cookies ringing in our ears, and we cranked up his gaming console.

"Mom brought this for my last birthday," he informed me.

"Your mom's nice," I commented.

"Yes, she is," he said confidently, as if daring me to challenge him. I said nothing as I waited for the game to load. The screen was dark except for the silver buffer. "What about yours?" he asked, trying—and failing—to sound casual. His curiosity was too obvious.

I pulled my knees to my chest. "Eh … how to say this? She's alive."

"No, I meant—" The game started.

"I know what you meant," I said quietly, "She has her moments sometimes but most of the time… I feel like I'm the parent. It'd be smart of you to not mention that in front of Thalia—when, er, if we ever meet her. She might murder you. My mom and my sis have a bad relationship. A caution, so you won't make that mistake in battle."

"Duly noted."

Then we lost ourselves into the game until Sally brought cookies.

I actually felt hungry when I saw the _blue_ food.

**_-your saving grace-_**

It was nearly six in the evening when I excused myself to go home, deciding to take a walk instead of hailing a taxi. I eyed the city. Even though the moon was rising, the city seemed, if possible, even brighter when the artificial lights were turned on full-blast.

There was something satisfying about looking around; the chaotic lives reflected my own inner turmoil.

I was crossing the street when my back tingled like crazy. Stopping in the middle of the street to grope my back didn't sound like a good idea so, ignoring the tightening pull, I quickened my pace to reach the other end. I knew what that meant. I turned left and right, trying to spot her—a flash of black, blue and leather—and I was not disappointed.

Electrical blue eyes identical to mine peered at me from across the street; the owner of those eyes leaned casually against the lamppost. I couldn't believe I missed her before. I saw the hilt of a sword jutting out by her waist. What surprised me was how Thalia's body glowed silver, as if she still had the blessing of Artemis. I was surprised no mortals gave her a second glance.

Our placing on opposing sides seemed symbolical somehow. I did not like it and even though it may seem to be losing in a battle of wills, I crossed the street again, nearly running there.

I did not embrace Thalia, well aware that there was something wedged between us; she made no move to hug me either. We were both aware that something or two were just … different. That there was an invisible barrier preventing any sort of affection until the sides were picked.

My heart tightened only briefly. I'd missed her, yes. I was happy to know she was alright. I was, however, very disappointed in her but I was not her master, I couldn't control her at all. Her choices were her problem.

I concentrated on matters at hand again and realized belatedly that she was taller than me.

"You look fifteen," I said, both a question and a statement, "and why are you still glowing?"

"And you look a year or two younger," she commented in a brusque tone, eyeing me with interest. When had she gotten so hard to read? "Do you know anything about the Great Prophecy?" she asked. Her voice was toneless now—only curiosity could be detected.

"Yeah," I said offhandedly, crossing my arms defensively. "If one of the children of the Big Three turns sixteen, they'll either raze or save Olympus." The moment I said it, I knew why she appeared to have the blessing of Artemis. "Still a day from fifteen, eh? Did your ex-patron retain the gift—or curse in this case—of immortality to ensure you do not choose the choice to raze Olympus?"

"That's an astute observation," Thalia said, agreeing, "even though I tried a sure-fire way to shrug it off. The blessing is revoked once a Huntress breaks her vow—to forswear the company of men. If you get my drift, Teddy."

"I'll kill Luke!" I snarled, ignoring the pedestrians turning to look at me when electricity sparked.

"We've missed you, Teddy." Thalia spread her arms, as if she wanted a hug. Her voice was truly wistful and genuine. I couldn't detect a lie. "We have much to talk about. Why don't you come with me?"

"No thanks," I shot her down coldly, stinging, reeling back from her words – abruptly lost and alone and cold. "You should go back to your boy-toy," I sneered.

"He's not my boy toy," Thalia corrected. "But you've always been able to see through him, didn't you?"I didn't know what to make of that cryptic words and that wry smile, not looking angry at all; she straightened and brushed dust from her leather jacket. Her hair was nearly shoulder-length, still dark and spiky, but there was a stray braid down her side. "But that is still no way to speak about him. He misses you—so does Alabaster and I—we still do, as a matter of fact."

"Nothing you say will make me go with you, seriously—" I faltered when she took a step closer, then another and she closed the distance. My instinct yelled at me to do something; draw my saber maybe, but I felt no danger, nothing to make me react. I waited.

And she did the last thing I expected her to do: she pulled me into a hug. I tensed. I had not expected it—especially not since I practically declared that we were enemies. She still smelled the same: the scent of pine smoke and the distant scent of cinnamon of her shampoo.

I was filled with the sudden urge to weep.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Teddy." The crack at the end of her sentence clued me in on the fact that her mask of indifference was hurting her as much as it did me. She buried her face in the junction between neck and shoulder. "I renounced our mother, but I never renounced you—I wouldn't even consider it." She pulled back, resting our foreheads together—blue eyes reflecting my blues and all I could see was sincerity. "Come with me, together we can make things right—we'll never be apart again if you chose so."

"Funny, I was about to say the exact same thing." I peeled her fingers off my shoulders but I didn't let go, twinning our fingers out of habit. The thought that Luke had held her hand the same way made me drop her hand as if it burned me. I felt so confused:_ to do the right thing or to do the easy one?_

"Is that a definite no?" Thalia did not sound hurt, she was not weak; her voice was as hard as the pavement we stood on.

"Only if you make it so," I tossed back listlessly, stepping away. I looked at the mortals, busy with their own daily lives. I thought of how their own problems haunted them and felt glad that, at least, I was not the only one suffering. Family spats happened every day, siblings severing ties; nothing new, no problem … none at all …

Thalia gave me a frosty glare in return for mocking her. The expression was so unfamiliar to me that I was stunned enough to miss what she had said. "—we've been together for so long and—"

"This is not about how much you or dad has been there for me." I peeled the bandages from my hand, staring down at the words—somehow, it had a calming effect on me. I brandished the inscriptions in my hand. At last, Her Majesty's intention was clear: she was ensuring that I would not betray Olympus. I had no doubts it would stop my heart from beating if I ever betray the Olympians—or die in a horrible and painful way.

"I've chosen my side, Thalia." I wanted to add that this was self-preservation but I had a feeling she knew from the script. Thalia's glare was smoldering; her snarl was fiercer than a lion's when she saw the Greek words. I felt relieved—somewhat—that her anger was no longer directed at me, but directed at someone she'd probably been hating on for awhile now.

"She THREATENED you!" she exploded. Thalia's face softened immeasurably when she gazed at me again. "Teddy, we'll find a way—"

"Don't count on it," I told her, lips twisted in a bitter smile. I didn't have it in me to tell her I was glad Hera had basically marked me: I wouldn't have been able to make a decision if it were just me and I probably would have torn myself apart trying to choose sides. The fact, the knowledge, that _Jason_ – baby brother, steady me – would also be fighting on the Olympians' side reinforced my belief I was doing something right. "And Hera says Jason is fine." Saying my brother's name gave me courage to face the eventual heartbreak on her part.

Thalia looked taken aback. "_What_?" she cried in disbelief.

"You thought she took him away to, what, serve on a dinner plate?" I snorted derisively. "Go home and sleep on it. You better tell Luke to watch his front and back," I spat bitterly, "I'll get him for this."

Thalia did not ask me to specify what 'this' was. "Wait, Teddy!" I frowned, turning my head to face her. "At least … at least let me contact you through the IM—we can meet up in a restaurant or something—and it won't be about the Titans or the gods—_just us_!" She hollered the last part, correctly interpreting my action of turning away.

"If it's a trap …" Great, now I was as paranoid as my—no our anymore, because Thalia renounced him, didn't she? I wondered if she still had her powers—father. "Maybe. I go to school, y'know, unlike some people I can name who denounced normal life for world domination."

"It's not world domination," snapped Thalia waspishly. "It's to—"

"I don't want to hear it," I cut her off. I knew I was being very cold and harsh to her but I didn't care. She wasn't being a stellar example of a sister one could sincerely get close to. _She_ chose Luke over me in the first place. So what if she didn't know for sure I would be back? Did she try to find a solution? Percy and Annabeth weren't even trying when they brought me to back to life. Annabeth never stopped waiting—that was certainly more than Thalia could say. "Goodbye."

"Taylor, wait." I frowned. "You've got to know that … that to fool your enemies, you first got to fool your friends."

I whirled around, startled. But she was already gone. Had I imagined that? Because it sounded a lot like she was actually on my side but was a spy—a spy for the Olympians.

No, it was just my own wishful thinking. Knowing me, I thought bitterly, I probably imagined it myself.

I walked to the home Hal and I shared, in a deep daze.

**_-your saving grace-_**

* * *

><p><em>Hope I did them justice and keep the characters IC though having your brother die on you can change someone. =,=<em>

_I'm curious about what you think about the first scene of the chapter; did you like it?_

_Also, from the last question's answers, the majority seems okay with Perdeus but I want a few bumps in relationships before Taylor actually settles down with someone. Love isn't easy after all, it's unrealistic to find true love in just one relationship - in my opinion anyway, you can call me a cynic or whatever. _

_Taylor will be - for the time being - with a girl just for experience. Can you guess wh_o?

For those a part of the Naruto fandom too, I've just posted a new SI - Bad Apple - so go check that out :)

**R&R**


	15. xiii

Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan

* * *

><p><strong><span>-:- Your Saving Grace -;-<span>**

**_13_**

The day before winter break, a girl actually approached me in school. This baffled me because, as far as I was aware, I was considered one of the geeks – _Greeks_, but they didn't really get it. I'd say my cousin and I fell in with the geeks, if only because I didn't mind sharing the same lunch table and I often asked them to help me with my homework – in other words, finish any sort of essay I had presented and correct my horrendously misspelled paper.

As Percy had put it, no one would be caught talking to us.

So unless the locker happened to have my last name, it couldn't possibly be anyone else but me.

"Hey, Grace, right?" A peppy brunette I'd seen in English class was standing before me. I closed my emptied locker warily; monster in disguise?

"Uh-huh."

"Are you free tonight? There's going to be a huge party to celebrate our championship in the last game!" She tucked a strand of highlighted hair behind her ear – a gesture that could be taken as a shy one if I hadn't known how vivacious she could be. "You were the MVP so—"

"Sorry, but I'm pretty busy," I cut in speedily, feeling my eyelid twitch from the uneasiness I felt. "I've got a flight to catch tonight."

Surprise flickered across the pretty cheerleader's face. "Where to?" she asked, recomposing herself from 'rejection' – maybe. Could've been a monster in disguise I couldn't distinguish. Sometimes, even after learning how to manipulate the Mist from Alabaster, I still had trouble seeing through the Mist.

"LA."

She smiled. "I haven't told you my name, have I? I'm Lou Ellen." It was the first time she'd spoken to me since she transferred to our school at the beginning of the semester.

The name tinged faintly in my head; it was familiar but I didn't place it immediately. Maybe because it sounded familiar to someone's name I'd heard before?

"I'm Taylor."

Lou smirked. "I know, Thaddeus Grace." I stiffened but in a swish of dark hair, she was striding away.

"What's up with her?" My elbow dug into Percy's gut the moment I realized he'd snuck up on me. "Ouch! I called you twice, it's not my fault you weren't listening to me!" The son of Poseidon rubbed his aching gut, a pout on his mouth. "So spill, since when were you popular with girls?"

"Since I, the randomly chosen backup player, was made MVP," my tone was dry and sarcastic. It said a lot about the world when one victory could garner you attention. They only paid attention to the glorious, neglecting the rest.

Of course, mortals couldn't see past the Mist – they didn't see how mysterious it was that the opposing team chased after a ball that wasn't there, how when they were about to score, a wind with the might to carry a tornado would knock it away from the hoop while I'd miraculously score despite the strong breeze.

Percy could hazard a guess as to what was going on though so he wasn't as impressed as everyone in school was when I turned out to be some hidden jock beneath the pretty, wane girlish face.

"You're going to LA – you're sure about going alone?" The teasing smirk he adorned so often had drifted away: he gazed seriously at me. Home had always been a touchy subject. Was the apartment complex even there? The place where Beryl, Thalia and Jason had made their home in my heart and memories?

My gaze zeroed in on the school gates – where teenagers bundled up in winter clothes were dotting the white of the freshly fallen snow. "Yeah," I said and even I sound unconvincing to my own ears. "It's not like you can handle flying." I clapped his shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up over it."

Another reason why I didn't want Percy to come with me: he was supposed to be answering Grover's SOS message from a military school up in Maine. I knew where this was leading to. The beginning of the Titan's Curse. Bianca, Nico, Zöe. Deaths.

Thalia.

… I want to go home. Back then, when we were – nearly, always will be nearly without Zeus – complete, the thoughts of the future never bothered me. I knew, as long as my family was there with me, I'd always be okay. The times where Beryl would wipe the tears away from my face, pinch my cheeks and smile so deliberately it was ludicrous to make me laugh.

I wonder if it was too late to buy another ticket and head to where _she_ was.

She was my mother. She was the parent, the adult – wouldn't she have an inkling as to what to do about Thalia? Even in myths, heroes' parents tend to have a large role over their children's lives. I think there was some rumor in camp that extreme mortal parents in Sparta fed their kids steroids to make them the buffed, legends they became.

A joke. (It was hard to tell when it came to the Stoll brothers.)

**:: ::**

**:: ::**

It took agonizing hours but I was finally home.

Home – as in the place I'd lived with Beryl, Thalia and Jason as a family of four. Hal's place was home, too, of course and Camp Half-Blood was starting to shape up, but my home would always be there. I didn't have the key – it must've been lost somewhere between the years of being a tree and running away from monsters – so I resorted to lock-picking.

The sons of Hermes were pretty good teachers.

But as I was pushing the door open, I was struck by a thought: _is this apartment still mine?_ My mother hadn't paid rent in years for obvious reasons and I was starting to feel horrified – gods, what if there was someone already living in there? Had removed every memory of my childhood? – when the door swung open fully, revealing … a dust-covered hallway with the same bare, peeling wallpapers.

It was home. I stepped in and absentmindedly closed the door, warily gauging the living room. My demigod instincts didn't tingle to signal danger. I brushed my fingers over the couch and my fingertips came up covered in dust.

I collapsed onto the bed my siblings and I used to share, dazed. I barely noticed the wetness of my tears crusted the haze of sleep that took over me. And I woke to someone shaking my shoulder. This alarmed me very much because a monster could've killed me while I was still asleep. I jerked back, back and head smacking against the headboard and wall, and gazed, wide-eyed, at the intruder.

I had not expected to see a familiar face. She was one of the crabby old ladies living next door. Her name escaped me though. "Uh … who're you?" I asked, deciding to start things easily.

She shot me a strange look, distorting her severe-looking, wrinkled face. She had to be about seventy. "You're one of the Grace's children."

I nodded. "I'm Taylor. Who are you?" I repeated my question. She looked rather sane and she didn't seem deaf. I'd say she fit the description of a governess a few centuries back.

"Henrietta Evans though I doubt you'd know who I am." Wow, an old fashioned name to top it at that. "I was your neighbor."

"Uh, I do remember that …"

"You must be the son." Henrietta nodded like this must be true just because she said so. "Are your mother and two elder sisters doing okay?

I floundered at her simple question. She'd obviously mistaken Thalia's twin as a girl – I had to admit, I wasn't all that manly now either. I was pretty gender-confused myself. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was trapped in my hormonal teenage years that wouldn't be ending in one night. "Uh, sorta. Why does it matter? Why did you enter without permission?" I shot at her, trying to unsettle her.

Henrietta was unflappable; she gazed sternly down at me. "When the whole family disappeared, I was the one who took care of your house."

Took care? At least nothing was pillaged, but the state it was in – worn and dilapidated and abandoned and dusty – was showing how terribly incompetent she was at housekeeping. "Thanks, but –"

"And it was I who paid the rent."

"Why?" I asked, incredulous and baffled – knowing the future was suddenly very unhelpful if so many things could take me by surprise. Then again, the story had been about Percy. Thalia was a supporting character and though she'd obviously had a lot of unexplored origins, it hadn't occurred to me until now that I now have the opportunity to delve into those origins. "You owe us nothing."

Henrietta huffed through her nostrils. "No, but I _am_ your grandfather's retired secretary – and am currently living my retirement tasked with looking after his wayward daughter who went missing a good seven years ago." Her lips curled – obviously, she wasn't pleased but whoever hired her did pay.

Wait, did she said grandfather? Now I was sure she didn't mean Kronos. Plus, she'd said 'wayward daughter' … "Do you mean Beryl Grace? As in my mother? She never told me about her parents." I was shocked.

Henrietta pursed her lips. "I've phoned Mr. Grace," she informed me shortly, pushing a business card into my hands, "He expects you to head to this address as soon as possible, he will even cover the traveling expense – if you'll give him a call and arrange an appointment. He can explain more than I can."

"How did you find me?"

Henrietta adjusted her half-moon glasses. "I've always been keeping an eye out for Beryl and her children." Then she left, high heels clicking.

That had been an abrupt meeting – fitting with the woman's demeanor. She'd spoken in clipped, abrupt tones and I had a feeling she scorned me simply for being a bastard child. She must've known that Zeus and Beryl weren't married and I had been born out of wedlock. Furthermore, she'd lived close enough to hear my parents' argument before Dad walked out on us forever.

I looked down at the business card.

It was surreal. Of course I knew Beryl hadn't came out of nowhere but to think she _had_ family – well, my paternal family was so extended, so large it had made up for the lack of maternal extended family. But there was a name – a connection – in this tiny card.

Blair Grace, apparent director of a private hospital.

My curiosity was completely awakened by now.

I abandoned my childhood home and hailed a cab to reach the address – it was in Los Angeles after all and it might be expensive but I'm sure with the Mist's help, I'll be getting a discount.

**:: ::**

**:: ::**

Being the impulsive, unplanned moron I was, I didn't make an appointment so I had to wait while the receptionist ferried a message to my grandfather's secretary and waited for a response.

"You're in luck," she said frostily, surprising me with good news because I was very used to bad ones. "I'll escort you to the fourth floor, Mr. Grace." To make sure I wasn't there to cause trouble, probably. I nodded and followed her, feeling distinctly awkward in my informal clothing. The rest of the staff here were clad in typical scrubs and doctors in white lab coats – the patients too were in scrubs. The visitors dressed in varying shades of dark colors, as if in mourning.

My mother was actually a rich man's kid, who knew? For an intellectual man that Blair Grace must be, I wondered how he'd taken the news of Beryl choosing to become a movie star. From the scant few memories I have of her mumbling – or cursing – her family and how they'd … ah, abandoned her … I thought they must've been poor because they didn't have the money to raise her properly. Maybe Zeus' paychecks hadn't been what kept us alive through our childhood.

My curiosity deepened as the elevator dinged with each rising level. It took forever to reach the fourth floor and I was bounding out before the receptionist was. The walls were faint salmon-colored, white tiles, and immaculately sterile – everything was silent. I wondered if this was where the morgue was situated – definitely not the children's ward in any case, judging from the lack of sound.

I was starting to suspect this receptionist was, in fact, planning something against me when she stopped. I saw the plaque before she told me that we'd reached my destination. She didn't even stay long enough to hear my thanks.

Trying not to feel too intimidated, I knocked.

What was I expecting when I was admitted into my maternal grandfather's office?

A messy place and a messy old man – like my mom. But no, everything was neat and clean, the walls and desk and shelves were white and impersonally furnished – there were no photos, nothing to indicate he thought about something other than work. The man had a wispy goatee, his hair grey and white, and his eyes were cerulean blue – the same shade as Beryl's. There was the toughness to his features added by age – he carried the vestiges of a handsome young man and it made me wonder if, once I'm old, I'll look like him.

He analyzed me like I was a new specimen – or, better yet, a brand new disease that had popped up in his patient.

His mouth dipped into a frown. "I see your resemblance to Beryl." He said Beryl like bacteria. Maybe this wasn't such a good deal. I bristled defensively. "Tyler, was it?"

"Taylor, sir." He was like a headmaster – I straightened my spine and tried not to look guilty.

"Ah, yes. And according to this birth certificate, you were born on 1988 – that would mean you'll be nineteen, at least." Blair Grace's gaze was critical, curious. "Yet here I see before me is a young adolescent of age … thirteen?"

"You have a copy of my birth certificate?" I asked instead, surprised.

"You were born here," explained Blair. "You and your siblings – where are the others?"

"Oh, um." I figured it'd be polite to answer him. "Thalia's part of a … she's a poacher?" I tried to flatten the tone of my voice – poacher was something illegal and by mortal accounts, the Hunt was illegal. Not that Thalia was a Huntress anymore. But saying the mortal equivalent of her current occupation – a bloody _terrorist_ – would only freak him out. "And Jason's at boarding school in San Francisco – or something like that, yeah."

New Rome did have a school, didn't it?

Blair eyed me balefully, sighing. "Take a seat, Taylor."

"Sure."

"Where's your mother?" Blair demanded. "Not dead, certainly?"

"Do you wish it so?" I sniped, narrowing my eyes. The chair was cold. The room was icy. His eyes lacked any warmth – I was regretting ever coming here. Were all rich men these … these guarded? I eyed his hands – weather and quivered the slightest bit and only my sharp, demigod eyes caught it – and saw no ring.

Divorced? Or a general detachment to his marriage, enough to not care about whether or not he wore a proof of hid fidelity? He didn't seem to be the type to do operations – his hands trembled too much for that, would he even be allowed to?

Blair sneered faintly. "Then I wouldn't have paid Henrietta such a generous sum to ensure that she and her ragtag family is still alive, would I?"

He made me feel like an idiot. Kronos or Blair – I couldn't be sure which of my grandfather was worse. At least I wouldn't have expected Kronos to be _accepting_. "I haven't seen Mom in … in years," I answered honestly, unable to meet Blair's eyes. I rubbed my sweaty palms on my ripped jeans. Blair was dressed in a crisp suit, the complete opposite of my casual wear – another list of why I felt inadequate here, if masquerading as a normal human hadn't been hard enough already. "But she's alive, as far as I know."

"If she hadn't been taking care of you, where has she been?" His question was lauded with disapproval.

"Somewhere like paradise." I bit my lip. "Or the closest imitation I can give her." I was a bit gleeful to give such vague answers. Undoubtedly, he'll wonder about my sanity and send me on my way and I'd pretend this was just an interesting eye-opener instead of a huge disappointment and a black blob in my life.

"Do you know who your father is?" Blair wondered. He was openly sneering now and he spurned my ire and vindictiveness.

That question startled a laugh out of me. "He's the ruler of the universe, yeah, why?"

Blair's eyelids twitched, his mouth jumped. "That would make you Apollo's younger brother." If I hadn't been watching his lips move, I wouldn't have believed that he'd spoken.

"You –" I spluttered. "How did –?"

"He was the patron of this hospital," replied Blair blandly. "We _are_ on the same Greek page, are we not?"

"Apollo – as in the sun god." My voice was flattened by my shock.

"Yes."

"How did you know him?" I was starting to feel reality and common sense had fallen out of this conversation. _Act normal, cope, adapt_, I mentally chanted to myself, trying not to let my surprise take over my rationality.

"We were old acquaintances," was Blair's curt reply. I didn't buy completely into that – I believed the bit about knowing one another but I doubted Blair and Apollo were just acquaintances; gods didn't do casual acquaintances. Maybe Mom got her ability to see through the Mist like Blair and … and the knack for charming Olympians. I stared at my grandfather, stunned, and somehow able to see a younger him – beautiful and blonde-haired, less harsh, _happier_. "He informed me about you," he added for my benefit. "I've been searching –"

"Halfheartedly, you don't look very happy to know I exist," I interjected faintly.

Blair was unflappable: "– for you, no matter how halfhearted my efforts were. I _did_ warn Beryl it was foolish to get involve with your father."

I spluttered. "You _knew_?"

"She came to me when she was pregnant with the twins," Blair said blandly and he did not sound like a happy grandfather receiving news of being a grandfather, "Told me the whole truth. Expected me to laugh at her, like you did, but she was surprised when I believed every word and agreed to let her deliver here."

"Why did you want to see me?" I wondered.

Blair's mouth finally curved into a smile – but it lacked any happiness or warmth. "What I told Beryl years ago: do not be too immersed in that world, only despair lies ahead."

**:: ::**

**:: ::**

At this point, I was sure nothing could surprise me more. But somehow, the Fates liked seeing me baffled. "Percy!" I choked on my own saliva when I saw him. How could I not notice? His green eyes were brighter than any of the mortals' green, his hair blacker than was natural, and I knew the set to his shoulders and lean frame.

He waved when he saw me. Something black fluttered in the alley he'd stepped out of. "I was just about to use the IM!"

"Er," My brain fizzled as it processed what I was seeing. "How did—? You didn't fly, did you?" The sky hadn't even rumbled.

Percy shuddered at the thought of flying. "'Course not," he grunted. He tugged his winter coat – soaked and crusted in snow – closer around him. "Blackjack gave me a ride. He smelled you out among the mortals." His lips were slightly blue; he looked cold. "What were you doing in the hospital?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" I asked incredulously. I grasped his arm and winced – he was freezing. I had the plane's solid structure to shield me from the cold and I was unbothered by any sort of air – be it humid or freezing – period. Percy obviously wasn't so lucky. "Didn't Grover called for your help?"

"Don't think I can make it back, brr." He sneezed to punctuate his sentence. "I came because I was worried. You didn't – well," he scuffed his foot in the snow lining the pavement on which they stood, the mortals passing by them barely gave them a glance, "You look like you're about to cry, back at school."

"That's no reason to come here!" I blanched. Touched as I was by his concern … if Nico and Annabeth – two major players in the future – were to die because Percy and Thalia weren't there to protect them … "You let Anna go alone?"

"'Course not!" Indignant miff flashed across his eyes. "The Stoll brothers went with her."

"Those _buffoons_ …" I sighed, readjusting my hold on Percy's arm. "Let's get you warmed up, okay?"

"You live here?" Percy glanced around, probably glad for the change of subject. We had been on the verge of an argument. "Were you injured or something? To go into the hospital…"

"My grandfather is the director of the hospital." I bit my lip. "And he gave me a wad of cash." But not his address, as if he wanted to avoid a visit from me. Also, I still hadn't figured out if Beryl's mother was still alive or not. "We can stay the night in a five-star hotel and head home—"

"By airplane?" Percy valiantly fought a grimace.

I thought about it. Speaking of Blackjack and steeds … I hadn't seen Aellai in a long, long time. I smiled at the thought of her. "Nope. A friend of mine can pick us up. And later, at Camp, we can introduce her to Blackjack – I'm sure he'll like her lots and lots."

"A Pegasus?" queried Percy, blinking in earnest interest.

"Not really." On the way to the hotel – no idea which one, I figured I'd pick the closest one before Percy froze or something – I told Percy everything, leaving the bits about Blair's questionable past.

"This Mr. Grace sounds a whole lot nicer than our paternal gramps," Percy finally said. "Not much of a talker, is he?"

"It's like he's an acquaintance instead of family!" This was a pitiful argument. I was related to everyone in the Greek world and I was an uncle to kids born millennia before me. All in all, what I'd said didn't hold a candle to the general weirdness of how family relationships work.

Just … can't I have a normal family relationship? Brother spirited away; sister on strike; mother in paradise.

Percy's voice grounded me. I kept walking, snow crunching beneath my feet. "I've never met my grandparents, I only know stuff from Mom's stories. Their names are Jim and Laura Jackson and…"

My lips quirked.

**:: ::**

**:: ::**

A sigh issued from Annabeth's lips as she narrowed her eyes upon the dance-floor. Grover skittered nervously beside her, sniffing his drink and cringing, and looking at where Bianca and Nico di Angelo were. The unclaimed, unaware demigoddess was red in the face from the incessant pestering of the Stoll brothers.

Nico's face was red too, from what Annabeth could see, but she knew it was from anger and possessive protectiveness over his sister, whom Connor and Travis were – taking a pitiful shot at – flirting with. Tactless as Percy could be sometimes, he could've done a better job at this.

Or, at least they could— Annabeth furiously stomped on that thought, gaze darkening as she shifted her gaze so it rested solely on Dr. Thorn. A monster in disguise.

Taylor and Percy were useful in situations such as these. But no, they left the reconnaissance mission up to her to finish, while they went off to have fun in LA. How Taylor afforded tickets for two – and if Percy even went on a plane – was surprising. She hoped he wasn't abusing Hal's generous salary. Though Taylor was deceptively altruistic, she knew he could be nefarious when he only had his mind on getting something.

_What are you two doing?_

It was a frustrating thought. She knew both of them respectively longer than they knew one another and yet, it was as if she had been the one Percy had just met. To Taylor, she didn't seem to be the long lost travelling companion from years ago, the one he sacrificed his life for. His blue eyes glazed over when he saw her, his head unconsciously cocked downwards, as if expecting her to be smaller.

Taylor was struggling to cope in a world that had left him in the dust seven years ago. Annabeth, older than him by a few months instead of being seven years younger, was living proof of that. He was good at covering it up and he hid from reality well but it was obvious he still had issues.

Percy who didn't remind him of the old days was a reprieve.

_I get it, but I wish you'll talk to me._

Grover's yelp and a hand – not the satyr's – clapping on her shoulder had her jumping out of her reverie. Instincts bred out from seven years of training to be a hero, she snatched the wrist and was about to twist it but this new voice sliced through instincts itself: "Anna, it's me."

Grover's eyes were dilated in fear. "You … you …"

"Alabaster!" growled the daughter of Athena. Annabeth spun around, gray eyes pinched into a glare. The son of Hecate was unmoved by it. His mouth was quirked at both ends in a strangely tender way – Taylor's smile, something Alabaster mimicked in remembrance of the son of Zeus they thought had been lost to them.

"It's been awhile, hasn't it?" he asked.

"Annabeth," cried Grover, muffling a shrieking cry of terror; he cast a terrified, pleading look at the Stolls that remained oblivious even as Annabeth's hand crept to her dagger. "We have to—"

"Oh, I just came here to talk." Alabaster's smile wavered. Annabeth wished Taylor were here. "I heard … Taylor … he isn't here?"

Her throat was tight. "No." _He'd grown taller than her,_ was all she could think. Alabaster had been a year older than she was but she was still used to being taller than him. The change – as was everything else – was disconcerting. His hair was dark, his eyes were a darker green than Percy's, his skin darker too.

Even though his hair was brown, he gave her the impression of being darker than Percy. She couldn't decide if it was due to the bags beneath his eyes or it was his alignment with the Titans.

She squared her jaw decisively. "What do you want? Talk before I slit your throat." Big words. Coming from someone who hadn't harmed a fellow human before.

Amusement danced in Alabaster's green eyes like lights reflected off an emerald gem.

Her heart clenched.

"Well now …"

:: ::

:: ::

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> Updates will be slow for a while as I write the next chapter and more. I like having at least six chapters stored in my comp before I post one. And I used to have more than six chapters. I discarded them when I realized they followed canon too closely. I want to change things and events, peeps, not reiterate them in Taylor's pov.

So on another note, what do you think of non-canon pairings? Connor/Bianca or Alabaster/Annabeth? Perlia? Taylor/Zöe. Opinions really valued here. In need of inspiration.

**R&R**


	16. xiv

Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan

* * *

><p><strong><span>-:- Your Saving Grace -:-<span>**

**_14_**

Aellai wasn't being troublesome, not like anything I remembered her to be. Her hair and tail sizzled with electricity, the mist of them churning like storms. Her black form rippled like pond water of the murkiest color, but she was more solid than water. She smelled of the comforting scent of ozone.

She didn't need a harness to be restrained. In fact, she was rather compliant as I helped Percy mount her before jumping on myself.

Percy was screaming for the first five minutes as she galloped in the wind so my eardrums had gone offline. The bellow of air dulled his voice and the sound of traffic. Aellai beat traffic no big deal. The feel of her powerful flank, the crackle of electricity, the taste of ozone – I'd missed it.

When I was on her, I fed her my frustrations. Every troubling thought, she used as a fuel to go faster and soar higher. Back as a kid, before being turned into a tree, I had little stress. Staying alive and running from monsters had become a lifestyle – exciting, stimulating, always a better tomorrow – not stress or frustration. So it must've been why Aellai was so hard to control back then.

Now, riding her was easy.

It took a few highways for me to come down from high, for me to realize Percy was cowering. His arms were crushing my ribcage hard enough to crack them. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd been bitten by wind, limbs iced over in place.

"Just a little more to Long Island," I called an encouragement like this every fifteen minutes. Then Aellai, to uphold the promise, would lurch higher into the sky, abandoning the roadway for the path of the sky.

I made sure she didn't rise too high since Percy's face was turning green in queasiness.

My mind was on Annabeth, Nico and Bianca. The former two were major characters. They couldn't be hurt. Especially not because of the Stoll brothers' clumsiness. They were reliable if you wanted to sneak illegal stuff – even drugs and cigarettes – into camp and espionage but for retrieval mission? Nuh-uh.

I kept my eyes on the sky, tracking the sun's movement.

An hour or two later, the sun's broad strokes broke through. Which meant, if things went well, that their journey to Camp Half-Blood was beginning. Unease tickled my chest.

"Is this what you do?" the son of Poseidon croaked, surprising me. At the start, he'd kept his mouth shut so bile wouldn't escape.

"Huh?"

"When you were on the run," he clarified his question, "Do you always use Ella—" Aellai neighed in protest. "Right, Aellai," amended Percy with a roll of his eyes, "She's always with you?"

"'Course not. I was with five other demigods and we traveled on foot or we hitchhike when we can. It's not until we met Grover that we built a chariot for her to pull."

Percy wrinkles his brows. "Can your sister do the same?"

"My father freed Aellai from her prison to give to me," I said, feeling my gut sinking at the mention of Thalia. I never thought I'd be the type to be touchy about being reminded verbally of bad memories; I thought I could muster nonchalance. Zeus knows my mind's been tormenting me about Thalia already. "I don't think he gifted her anything for her birthday that year."

Percy was quiet, silently contemplating. "You think … ?"

"It's not favoritism," I snapped before I could tone down the defensiveness. I cleared my throat before I continued, softening my voice: "I mean, Thalia and I shared everything – if he gave something to me, he knows I'll be sharing with her. What's mine is hers … well, it used to be that way."

"She was – is – very angry with your dad," Percy suddenly said, tearing the topic of the conversation to something else. "Aren't you angry too?"

That question sounded familiar. Luke asked me that too. I had less of a solid answer to give him then. I couldn't name a reason as to why I wasn't angry, I only said I wanted him to be there more for me. Now, I could think of good things: Zeus' smile, the first time we met and he made me cheeseburgers, the time he gave me money to buy groceries for the night, the eagle that flew me around camp. Inconsequential things: the rain that fell whenever I was down with a cold, the drumming rhythm easing me into a comfortable sleep, the storm that struck the house of a jerk teacher I had in third grade.

I grinned at Percy. "Nope, not ever."

* * *

><p><strong>-:-<strong>

* * *

><p>We reached Long Island just as the sun cartwheeled into Camp.<p>

Even from a distance, I could see the campers gathering to gawk before scattering once they realized they'd be caught up in the explosion. Percy blanched. "What?!"

Thalia wasn't driving the sun chariot so who had _such_ atrocious driving skills? The Stoll brothers. One of them. That had to be it. "Percy, the lake!"

I only had time to shout that. Luckily, he understood without needing my elaboration: Aellai skidded to a halt, he leapt off, a hand thrust out and the water rose to his command. An instant cushion from death. The heat rolling off the sun chariot in waves turned the water into steam but there was enough water – and control on Percy's part – that the sun chariot didn't crash into the naiads.

The bus landed on uneven, unsteady water with a watery thump.

Aellai, ever-curious, trotted closer, bringing me along with her. She whinnied lowly. "Taylor," Percy gritted out, pulling my eyes away from the chariot, "A little help here?"

How?

Oh, wait. I could harness the winds to give it a ride and a gentle landing once Percy tossed them out. I nodded to Percy to show I understood. The water boosted them out. Skittish naiads dived back into the water once the chariot was airborne.

Channeling the tempest that compromised Aellai's body, I leashed the vehicle back, dulling the momentum. The bus landed on its front wheels – the people at the back must've gotten the worst of the bumpy landing, poor things – and seared the snow to grass within a thirteen feet radius.

Aellai nickered angrily, sparking electricity as she fixed electrifying eyes on the bus doors that creaked open.

A satyr stumbled out first, cross-eyed. "Grover!" said Percy, obviously happy to see his friend. He jogged over to the satyr. "Hey, buddy! The mission was a success then?"

Grover nodded shakily. "Yeah, but that's not all! We met … Al—Artemis and her Hunt!" He'd lowered his voice dramatically. A quizzical expression took over Percy's face. I was sure he hadn't missed the sudden change mid-word.

But a jackalope galloping down the steps of the bus surprised me enough to chase the question out of my mind. Annabeth quickly followed suit – much to my relief and confusion – and Connor Stoll after her. A demigod, a young boy, with olive-skin and tousled black hair and onyx eyes, jumped out: Nico di Angelo.

I knew he'd be young, about ten, but no one told me how – damned – adorable – he'd be. I imagined Jason, my baby brother, was as cute as he was at this age. Ten years old.

My heart throbbed against thorns of pain, of longing – I'd never see my brother grow up. When we'd finally meet again, he'd be a cool, mature leader. Possibly older than me – his birthday came before mine. According to his description, he was built more like Zeus, while I had inherited Beryl's build. Definitely not coddling, cuddly material anymore.

Sad, because cuddling Jason was my favorite past-time. He was so tiny in comparison to me years ago.

I had to resist getting off Aellai to squeeze Nico into a hug and pretend it was Jason I'm crushing to my chest.

Aellai kicked her front legs, rearing high in annoyance, nearly throwing me off her. I seized her hair to steady myself. "Aellai!" I chided. She steadied herself, still annoyed, and I peered around her head to look.

Nico was staring at me – and Aellai – stars in his eyes. "That's … this horse is so cool!" he gushed. "I want a ride!" His arms were stretched out to touch Aellai.

I didn't need Percy the translator or Horse-speak to understand Aellai had said, _Hades no!_ To her superior nose, she must've scented Hades on Nico, and she didn't like a scent so close to Tartarus. I patted her flank comfortingly. "There, there … I'm sure we can accommodate him."

Plus, how could I say no to that face?

"Wait, Nico!"

His smile fell, a scowl ripping through his face instead, as a girl clad in a silver parka and jeans and winter boots rushed to us, threading through grass and snow that had been outside the blast radius. Bianca had hair hanging in her eyes, nearly obscuring her freckles, and it made it hard to see her face properly.

"I've got to talk to you – oh." Her notice of me was belated. Her cheeks heated slightly in embarrassment. "Um, hi." She glanced at Nico curiously. "Did you … er, what's your name?" Her embarrassment increased tenfold – I could practically sense it, which made me wonder why she was even asking since, as a boy, I shouldn't have appealed to her as a potential friend.

"Thaddeus Grace. Just call me Taylor. What about you?" I asked, smiling to be nice.

"Oh! I'm Bianca di Angelo, he's Nico, my younger brother."

"You're new to the Hunt." I tried to look at her accusingly, tried not to sound angry. I didn't think I succeed. I mean, I can't stand her.

I'm sure she's nice or something. As nice as a daughter of Hades can be. But … she gave Nico up. She had a brother she could be together with for the rest of her life. Yet, she was sick of raising him? Sick of it when I would've given nearly everything to be able to raise Jason? To be able to keep him close? I had no choice. She had one and she chose to give him up.

Then she'd die. Nico would turn from this cheery boy into a bitter, misunderstood demigod.

It was Bianca's fault.

"Y-Yeah." Bianca tilted her chin up to look at me, as I was seated above her, on my steed. Her eyes were surprising: a ring of glittery white surrounded her irises but I couldn't tell if it was because of the light from the sun.

I opened my mouth – maybe to scream at her, my emotions were jumbled up enough for that surely – but a call cut across me. Heat kissed my skin, nearly melting off my winter jacket. "Son of Zeus," boomed the boyish voice of my immortal brother.

Jason would look like Apollo: bronzed, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, handsome and charming. "Let's see … Taylor, right? I've heard all about you."

"From who?" I asked, quite put out that anyone would know anything about me.

"From our father and the minor gods: the little oddball demigod is all they talk about these days, something about sacrifices?" If he was offended I did not greet him, he didn't show it, "Zeus' boy – makes you my half brother." I think it hardly mattered to him that we had the same father; if I pissed him off, he'd smite me. His eyes were appraising. I was sweating. Aellai, apparently disliking the heat too, skittered back. "Used to be a tree, didn't you? Glad you're back. I hate it when pretty boys turn into trees. They don't usually turn back." Here, his lips twisted into a wistful smile, "Man, I remember one time with Cyprissus—"

Nico tugged at Aellai's hair and got a taste of electricity.

"Aellai!" I snapped, wringing her hair. "Leave the boy alone!"

Apollo blinked, adjusted his sunglasses, and turned away. Percy edged around him, like a crab with his side-walking. I tried not to laugh but I think I failed; my cheeks barely contained my amused grin.

Apollo looked at Percy, and his eyes narrowed. "Percy Jackson?"

"Yeah. I mean … yes, sir." I felt sorry for my cousin who had Apollo's attention: he was being examined like a very interesting specimen but Apollo gave no comment to alleviate his worries. Behind him, Grover was tripping over his hooves to escort the Hunters – a dark-haired girl with a circlet was turned away from me but I was sure she was Zoë Nightshade. Her skin was coppery in the light, the silver parka only bringing out the exotic color of her skin.

Further away, I saw Annabeth and Connor trying to calm the jackalope. I did not see Travis anywhere … With a lurch in my gut, I finally drew the dots: Travis had been turned into a jackalope by Artemis – probably flirted with her or the Huntresses.

Crap.

Finally seeming to notice the Hunters were leaving, Apollo spun on his heels, calling them a farewell, tacking on "sweethearts and honeypies" to it. He cocked his head towards me, cheeks turning somewhat gold as he winked. "Watch out for those prophecies, Teddy. I'll see you soon."

"It's not Teddy," I protested.

Instead of gracing me with an answer, his grin just broadened. Heat eased up with distance. "Later, _Grace_," he amended – not much of an improvement actually. Then he closed the doors and revved the engine. I nudged Aellai, turned my cheek the other way, and she shifted: shielding Bianca and Nico from the glare as the sun chariot took off in a blast of heat. When I looked back, the lake was steaming and snow had melted into their shoes. A red Maserati soared over the woods, glowing brighter and climbing higher until it disappeared in a ray of sunlight.

Bianca opened her mouth to speak but a distant cry from the Huntresses reminded her that she had limited time. And there were _boundaries_ when it came to me. "I, um, nice meeting you, Taylor." Her eyes cut to Nico. "Can you please take care of my brother? You look extremely reliable."

"Sure." I would've done it without her asking anyway. "Have fun hunting."

Bianca's face heated red: she knew I was mocking her though my tone was mellow. She quickly took off after her 'sisters', looking back every ten steps ahead. I ignored her, offering Nico a hand.

"I'll give you a boost up," said Percy, stepping close.

I tried not to look sorry for Nico, knowing of his unrequited crush. The son of Hades – though he did not know this – gaped at Percy too. He was so open with his emotions now that I had to smile at the display. He didn't protest against being touched when Percy lifted him up by the waist.

I forced Aellai to lower herself and pulled Nico on. I absorbed the electricity she spammed, feeling the hum of energy in my veins. "I'll show you around Camp, if you want."

"We should bring him to Chiron first." I looked up: Annabeth was leading the miserable-looking jackalope towards us. I was happy to see that Annabeth was alright, but less so to see a troubled expression on her face, not completely masked by the wry humor. Among our old group, the one best at pretending was Hal and I, believe it or not.

Thalia claimed it was ironic when she noticed: she considered Hal and I to be the best of them all, when it came to being human. Oh she didn't know, did she, that I had been lying to her since the day we were born. I wasn't her twin, I was too much of a someone before I was her other half.

"And fix Travis," said Connor. He looked weird, because of the worry distorting his face.

I smirked. "Learned a valuable lesson, Stoll?" I drawled tauntingly.

He shot Percy a foul look, ignoring me and surprising me by the amount of venom in his face. "We did this as a favor to you, Jackson. Now look!" He gestured to his brother.

Percy winced. "Sorry, dude. Look, we can ask Mr. D or Chiron for a solution."

Nico twisted in his seat to whisper, "It was really awesome. Artemis raised her hand and in a blast of silver light! BAM!" I winced at the sudden increase of volume. But Nico didn't notice, animated as he was. "He was an animal!"

"He's got experience," I assured him. I'd seen Mr. D turn the Stoll brothers into statues and toilet rolls before. Toilet rolls he had me pass to the sons of Ares for their toilet break. Gosh, it was funny. That was memorable to me from last summer but _no_, the Golden Fleece became the bead for that summer. Bummer.

I turned to Annabeth. Assessed her carefully. Something – my instinct – warned me that things weren't right. She looked mournfully at me though she tried to hide it – a split second too late. I made a mental note to ask her in private later. "Just tell Chiron I'll watch over Nico," I said.

"You're always taking care of orphan kids …" My brows rose. She smiled sadly. "I'm glad to see that hasn't changed."

"Oh … kay…?" I continued in that vein. "I'll let Nico watch the orientation film later."

"Where're we going first?" asked Nico excitedly.

I thought about it. "Everywhere," I decided and Aellai took off, galloping in the wind.

* * *

><p><strong>-:-<strong>

* * *

><p>In about an hour, word got around that there'd be a game of Capture-the-Flag. I explained what it was to Nico, emphasizing loudly that he was not to participate actively as part of the offense team.<p>

"Why not?" he whined.

My tone was steel, not allowing room to argue: "You'd get hurt." I knew he'd be powerful but until then, he was not going to be swinging a sword without my say-so. With his ADHD, he'd likely end up falling on the tip of the sword.

Nico pouted, eyes fixed away from me, on the basketball court. Angry shouting was a faint noise in the background. I could picture it escalating. An Ares guy was close to waving his sword. The Huntress looked like she was going to use her bow and shove it up his ass.

"I've got to break that fight up," I said, knowing that it'd be easy to get the son of Ares to stand down. As the son of Zeus, I had the highest authority among the campers – aside from Mr. D and Chiron that was. I liked the power I had: no arguments. I hated it when people argue with me. Not because I wanted things my way but because arguing was really draining and annoying and I'd get violent just to end it – with the offensive idiot a grease spot on the nearest surface.

I had my mother's temper. Thalia had Dad's.

Beryl liked it when we followed obediently. I'd seen her violent before; she'd dashed a glass of beer across the wall of our living room when Thalia went overboard. Otherwise, she didn't have a temper. Except for the caustic style of speech.

Maybe she got it from Blair … or my still unknown maternal grandmother.

Dad's temper … I think you can hazard an accurate guess better than I could describe it.

"Cool," remarked Nico, smiling, "Are you going to use your sword?"

"Let's hope not."

* * *

><p><strong>-:-<strong>

* * *

><p>I ended up using Aegis – ah, my lovely shield – on the Huntress to scare her into obedience. Phoebe, one of the oldest Huntresses – she was big-boned and eons older than I was, so naturally, I had to resort to lower means to get her to obey and back off. To say the Hunters were thrilled about how I handled things was an understatement.<p>

Zoë Nightshade had declared it a personal offense. She was the only Huntress courageous enough to brave the almighty glare of Medusa to reach me. "If M'lady was here—!" Her jaw quivered, her words clicked together, and she clenched her fists to stop them from shaking at the close proximity to the head of Medusa on a copy of Aegis.

"You'd run crying to your mother's skirts, wouldn't you?" I snapped. She rubbed me the wrong way. The whole Hunt did. Not only were they anti-testerone – which I embodied so natural animosity was expected – they reminded me of Thalia. She was with them. I'm sure their lifestyle was something she'd enjoy and yet, she had ran off with Luke.

Why?

Had they mistreated her?

The chances of my sister doing the bullying were higher but that hardly stopped misconceptions of a protective brother from piling up.

Zoë's mouth curled disdainfully. She would've been beautiful if she didn't look like she had stepped on cow poop. "A mother's skirt to cry on, thou say. Ironic. From what I've heard, thy whore of a mother can't keep her skirt on for more than five minutes in the presence of a male."

Nico gasped. The son of Ares – Sherman – muttered, "That's low, lady."

The campers' words were mere buzzes, mosquito flying, around my head.

Nothing in comparison to what Zoë's words did to me; hot pokers melting through my ribcage to my heart. The area behind the skin of my navel hurt, ached, gnawed: fury coiled like a tiger ready to strike down its prey.

How … how dare she?!

My mother, my beloved, dearest mother, sullied like that—!

Hera's mark on the back of my palm seared my skin to the bone; I _screamed_.

* * *

><p><strong>-:-<strong>

* * *

><p><em>If anyone can guess why Hera's mark burned, you can request a drabble from me.<em>

_Definite pairing: Alabaster/Annabeth_

**R&R**


	17. xv

Percy Jackson & The Olympians © Rick Riordan

* * *

><p><strong><span>-:- Your Saving Grace -:-<span>**

**_15_**

I'd never seen Taylor so mad before.

Static made everyone's hair stand on end; Taylor's hair hovered like a halo. Ozone wrinkled the air with its odor. Electricity fused into the white of Taylor's eyes: his gaze was unseeing through the haze of fury painted with violence.

The air picked up the velocity of a tornado.

"Taylor!" I cried as the wind flattened the approaching campers. If Taylor heard – and I doubted he did – he didn't react. His line of sight was fixed on the Lieutenant of Artemis. She tensed, her bow and arrows were in her hands, ready for a fight.

Taylor moved – a flicker and a sizzle of electricity in the currents of air – and leapt across the distance in a blink; he seized her jaw, slamming her into the ground. The Huntresses screamed and shouted, incensed: silver arrows cut through the air and rained down on the son of Zeus, deadly precise.

I screamed Taylor's name and I lunged, tearing through the wind, and I saw the son of Poseidon overtaking me, panic in his eyes. The satyr – Grover – blew a high-strung, jaunty tune on his reed pipes: grasses sprouted like weeds to restrain the son of Zeus.

A cry of anger. He cut his hand in air and the tornado turned the arrows back onto its shooters. The Hunters scattered. But the weeds tied him down, slowed him enough for the dazed Lieutenant to regain some of her wits: she jackknifed upwards and kicked Taylor off.

That was the encouragement he needed to rip the weeds. Air sharpened into deadly blades and Grover's magic went out the window. Campers gathered around us, watching, not daring to approach. I saw the pale-face of the new demigod, di Angelo, shouting hoarsely, reaching out for Taylor. The son of Ares I dimly recognized from my years here was yelling too.

But Percy's voice rose above the rest: "Taylor, stop it!" The son of Zeus, iron grip grappling with the Lieutenant – he'd twisted Nightshade's arm into an unnatural angle – stilled. Obeying the green-eyed demigod's and a surge of bitter anger rose in me.

Waves of water from the lake doused the son of Zeus, the Lieutenant of Artemis – stunning them.

I wanted to deck Jackson for daring to do that to Taylor. But it, against all odds, worked. The anger cleared from Taylor's eyes, the electricity leaked from his irises, leaving only the bright blue of the sky. Confusion overtook his array of emotions; he glanced around uncomprehendingly.

I saw fatigue in his posture. He dropped to his knees, heaving and so pale my heart clenched like a fist. And I skidded towards him, Percy kneeling beside him already, protectively, before the Hunters charged forward to beat him into a pulp for attacking their lieutenant.

I looked: Nightshade was putting up a good show but I could tell, from the broken arm, she was in pain. "Apollo cabin, tend to her!" A daughter of Apollo melted out of the crowd of stunned onlookers – Taylor had never lost his … well, good grace, before – to attend to the Lieutenant of Artemis.

"Percy, she – I—" He blanched.

"It's okay," I consoled him.

He clutched onto Percy, instead of relying on me. I scowled. The demigod di Angelo hunched over Percy's shoulder. "Is Taylor okay?" he mouthed.

"He should be fine. Just tired from exerting his latent ability. What happened?" I got this all out in one breath.

Taylor glanced, troubled, at Nightshade – her glare was furious and hateful and promised vengeance – and away. He swallowed thickly. "It was … a stupid thing to get angry about. The insult was lame – Percy could've given her lessons about it – I didn't even realize I was hurting her that badly, I…" From the corner of my eye – the eye that was used to catching even the most minor of details – I saw him touched his gloved hand. The only hand that he kept covered up.

I know what's there. What Hera had done; she'd marked him there.

Cold fear enveloped me as I thought about Hercules' myth. I know it all too well. How Hera had driven him insane. Had she done that to Taylor? Even for a brief moment?

Taylor was trembling.

I'd never seen him so afraid before. Like a puppy kicked too many times, fear ingrained in him to flinch away from all. Taylor flinched from the accusing glares of the Hunters. The son of Poseidon moved first, pulling Taylor to unsteady feet.

"You don't need a visit to the infirmary, right?" he asked for confirmation. Taylor nodded shakily.

I frowned.

"I want to go back to my cabin." Taylor's distracted gaze fell on di Angelo who was wide-eyed and concerned. He reminded me too much of a certain boy from many years ago. I hurt when I saw him. Him and Taylor. The son of Zeus' eyes softened. "I'm sorry about that … I ruined a perfectly good day … and basketball court," he surmised mournfully, gazing at the blackened soot that used to be where we play our hoops.

Nico's face was split by a wide, exhilarated grin. "Sorry? What for? That was AWESOME! I want to see you fight more someday! You went blam and then—!"

"That's enough," I cut in irately. Can't the brat see that Taylor was exhausted? Drained by Hera's machinations? "Do you need—?"

"I'll walk Taylor to his cabin," said the son of Poseidon.

Taylor said nothing to this, leaning on Percy like he'd done it a lot of times already. I pursed my lips. Unhappy.

I watched them go and seeing that, I realized I'd never felt as alone.

**o0O0o**

Starting fights, especially with a Huntress, was a crime and I had privileges taken away from me without being chided. I guess Chiron knew I was mature enough to be sorry about it. I wasn't allowed to participate in tonight's Capture-the-Flag, I would have no dessert for the rest of the month, and I had to help harpies scrub plates in lava.

Just peachy.

"Now, Taylor," said Chiron gravely. "Show me your hand."

I tucked my gloved hand into the back of my pocket. "No! I mean, why?" I asked guardedly.

"When you … ah, lost your temper, Mr. D said he sensed _her_."

Add an 'a' to 'her' and we'd get the solution to the question. I blinked, fidgeting. My father's statue scowled down at us in my spacious cabin. Thunder rumbled threateningly. "I know what it's about. I swear, I'd put a lid on my temper."

"No, Taylor, you don't—"

"I get it!" I insisted stubbornly. "I know it better than you do. What she wants, what we agreed on … stuff. I'll be fine." I shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot in my attempt at a casual stance. I was failing.

Chiron's gaze was pitying as he looked at me: no sons of Zeus had good lives when Hera had honed in on them. "I want you to be careful," he said caringly.

"Thanks for the concern, Chiron, but really – I'll be okay." I swallowed thickly, tasting the sour tang of lies on my tongue flowing down my throat.

Chiron accepted that so he excused himself and bade me good evening. But I saw it in the slump of his shoulders, the sad turn of his lips: he was sure I'd eat my words later on. He was absolutely certain I wouldn't be okay in the time to come.

I tried not to dwell on it. Not when I was already being gulped down alive by fear.

And here I thought Hera wouldn't try to hurt me once I was one of her pawns.

The mark – _Champion of Hera_ – ached.

I didn't go to dinner that night, I didn't sacrifice anything to anyone, and I certainly didn't head to the forest. Instead of taking things – a high possibility of turning insane to murder everyone in camp before I was put down like a wild animal – maturely, like it should've been expected of me, I decided to act my physical age for the first time in a long while.

I curled up on my bed and bawled like a fricking newborn. Except that there was no twin to cry along with me, to remind me that I wasn't alone; no mother to offer safety and warmth this body instinctively craved from its originator.

I estimated about fifteen minutes before the game was to start when someone knocked on my door. I stopped sobbing. I wasn't a loud crier but my throat was scratchy anyhow. I dried as much of my face as I could on my blanket before I shuffled to the door and opened it.

Percy stood on the other end. He closed his mouth with an audible click of his teeth when he saw the state I was in: I must've looked seriously miserable. I pressed a hand to my right eyelid. "What's it, Perce?" I croaked.

"I just … wanted to see if you're okay," he mumbled lamely. Uncomfortable. "You weren't at dinner. We could get to our dinner much faster." I nearly smiled. "So, er, anything I can do to … uh, make you feel better?" Sympathy was on his face. "It's not fair that you got to sit this game out when we'll be teaching them a lesson. Zoë wasn't even punished!"

I shrugged halfheartedly. "I'm under Chiron's jurisdiction, Zoë isn't." I paused, trying to think of something substantial that will appease Percy and keep his mind on winning the game instead of worrying over me. The kid was too loyal a friend sometimes and it was nice. I feel better already, to have him checking on me. In my previous life, I never would've thought a simple friendly visit would do so much – simply because I never had what qualified as true loyal friends there. "Win this game and rub it in her face for me?" I asked sweetly.

Percy grinned. "You've got it!" Then, "Any ideas on how to?"

I blinked. "You have Annabeth, don't you?"

He scowled, surprising me. "Yeah, but she said, '_Maybe it's time you use your own brain for once, Jackson_!'" His high falsetto was nothing like Annabeth's voice; he was terrible at being a ventriloquist. "What did I do to piss her off?"

It was a rhetorical question but I found an answer: "You ditched her in Maine to go with me."

Realization dawned on him. "Oh … oh yeah." He looked me in the eye. "I didn't think she'd be angry about something small like that. I thought she agreed, I told her about you, and she said it's best I go and she'll be fine on her own. What brought the sudden change?"

Uneasiness trickled into my gut. "Percy, I think Annabeth wanted to join the Hunters and … well, you dumping her to go with me, doesn't exactly give her the best impression of boys, y'know? Especially since you promised her."

He didn't seem to get the point. "So?"

"Artemis' not here so she's upset she's missed her chance to be a Huntress – that she has to wait for her next chance."

Percy blanched. "What?! How did she get to that sort of thinking?!"

I didn't know where I spouted that either. I just didn't want Annabeth to join the Hunt – it was a silly group. To me. But even as a girl in my past life, it wouldn't have appealed to me. I didn't like forests and hunting – embracing the nature of the sky was a different thing.

"Just keep your head on the game," I advised. "You focus on defense – erect a wall of water and stop the Hunters from crossing the creek – while the campers sneak around for their flag." I doubted they would win but I said, "Own it."

Percy smiled one last time before leaving.

Leaving me alone.

I closed the door. I paced the length of my cabin before I came to a stop before a marble column. The rope ladder blended into the shadows of the column, masking it until I came to stand here. I didn't hesitate to climb it and reach the top of the cabin.

The air caressing my cheek immediately soothed me. Squinting into the forest however provided me no entertainment. The trees rose too high, the leaves too thick, and the night too dark, for me to be able to make out any campers fighting the Hunt.

I couldn't sleep either – nightmares awaited – so I fell back on an old past time. Again, it was connected to Jason. I conjured air tricks for his amusement. Dangle items in front of him for him to snatch and train his hand-eye coordination and motor skills. I hadn't done that in years – moving stuff I mean.

Air pressure. I could control that too – the air was both Zeus' and Hera's domains.

Air swirled around my forearm, enveloping my wrist and fist. I thickened it absentmindedly. I thumped my cyclone-encased arm into the roof and nearly destroyed it.

Oh.

_Oh_.

Now this wasn't so bad. I twirled a ring of air – I couldn't see it but I felt the hum and kiss of compressed air – and tossed it into the forest experimentally. A branch was sheared from its trunk. I didn't have the time to marvel before an armless nymph melted out of her tree, shrieking in agony and wailing in rage – some girl was about to kill me.

Shit. I dived back through the trapdoor, wrenched it shut and waited.

No pursuers. I was safe; she hadn't seen me. I climbed down the rope ladder, a bit woozy with guilt. But I had no way of apologizing without admitting I did it and suffer possible retaliation. Maybe I'd get a Demeter kid to look at her tomorrow morning.

That said, I went to bed.

Sleep was a surprising reprieve. I woke up to realize I had not been plagued with any nightmares. Morpheus had been surprisingly kind, even though I hadn't sacrificed anything last night. Then I realized some annoying asshole had waked me up by pounding the door to my cabin down.

"Hey!" I cried out in protest when the bronze creaked beneath the hits.

"Taylor, wake up!" Annabeth? I rushed out immediately, frenzied with concern, only to see – aside from a cut on her cheekbone – she was fine. "Oh, good, you're awake." She scowled, gray eyes dark. "Did you know I've been calling you for the past five minutes?"

"I just heard you not ten seconds ago," I pointed out flatly. "What's going on?"

"Dionysus is calling a council of cabin leaders to discuss the prophecy," she said. "Sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep." Her eyes lingered on mine. "Though from the looks of it, beauty is overrated."

I snorted but I didn't elaborate. Let her draw her own assumptions. Annabeth trudged after me, lagging behind, and it was like a sucker-punch of guilt. "Anna," I stopped, "Is …" I stopped myself from completing the question. Something was _always_ wrong with us. "If you need anything, I'm here."

She blinked in honest surprise, then a dazzling smile spread across her face. "I know." This time, as we continued to the Big House, she walked next to me.

She slipped her hand into mine, as if she was still seven, and I couldn't help but smile.

**o0O0o**

Zoë had started the meeting without the Zeus Cabin's counselor and Athena Cabin's head. I frowned as I resumed my seat next to Percy, close to the head of the table. Mr. D and Chiron resumed those seats of course. "What's this about?" I muttered to Percy. I also wanted to ask how did the game go but this didn't seem to be the appropriate time – things looked serious.

Zoë was acting as if I wasn't in my chair; a treatment I did not mind so as long as I could reciprocate. Beside her stood Bianca di Angelo. She was actually good-looking, with the cap out of the way, and I stared at her even though I was talking to Percy. Something like air kissed my navel, sending shivers down my spine.

Bianca saw me looking, caught my eye, and hurriedly looked another way.

She must've been scared of me, after that display of power. At least I know I could own Zoë in a fight any day. I felt complacent smugness filling my chest at the sight of Zoë and the streak of purple underlining her chin.

"We're choosing the questers," said Percy. "Hunters and campers combine will prevail – to retrieve Artemis."

Not my problem, I wanted to say. But looking at Zoë – that little schist – and Bianca, knowing how they'd die … it didn't sit well with me. Bile churned in my stomach. Letting them walk to their deaths would ensure I had nightmares for the rest of my life. And not to mention Nico. That poor kid…

(_You can't save any and everyone. It's unfair and unrealistic to expect so much of yourself._ I tried to believe my own mental encouragement as I opened my mouth and spoke anyway.)

"Three campers and two Hunters," I suggested.

Zoë paused. Glared murderously at me. "Why three campers?" she demanded.

"It's tradition in camp," Annabeth pointed out, siding with me. I nodded at her.

"We're already breaking tradition with five," Connor Stoll said. Travis was nowhere to be seen. I hoped he was okay. Even if he wasn't, it would be hilarious.

"Consider two separate groups working together. Three from camp – an auspicious number – and two from the Hunt: working for the same goal."

"That's not bad," agreed Chiron mildly. "The auspicious number has protected us for centuries when on quests. I would volunteer Annabeth," He glanced at the daughter of Athena who looked surprised, "and Taylor." My eyes widened, startled.

"The volatile son of Zeus?" spat Zoë in disbelief. Like I was not there to hear every word. "The Hunt does not travel with boys!"

"Read up on myths," Annabeth inserted coolly. "Didn't Artemis herself not invite Orion, a male, to hunt with her? The Hunt _does_ travel with boys, just not often."

That only served to spark Zoë's temper. "_Do not mention that accursed name_!" she hissed like a rattled snake. But she had run out of arguments. I guess I was on. Not like I could say no without losing face. "Who's the other camper?" she asked nastily.

"Me!" Grover stood up so fast he bumped the Ping Pong table. He brushed cracker crumbs and Ping-Pong ball scraps off his lap. "Anything to help Artemis!" His eyes shone with excitement, fervent eagerness to please.

But then, how would Percy go?

I looked at the son of Poseidon. He wasn't watching me; his sea-green eyes swam in hurt, directed at Chiron who looked steadily away from Percy. I'd feel safer if he was there to watch my back. Grover had gotten me to Hades before, I wasn't looking forward to travelling with him again. Next thing I know, I'd be some pine tree in a remote desert. I looked away from the satyr as I spoke, "There's no need for a tracker."

Grover, as I expected, looked crushed. "But—"

"I already know where Artemis is being held," I said flatly. "Morpheus showed me." So I was lying, sue me. Zoë stared at me in stunned disbelief.

"O-Oh." Grover sat down. His face was red with hurt. "Then—"

"Percy is a better choice," I continued. "He's strong. If something happens to me on the quest, he can cover up for me."

"Where is M'lady?" demanded Zoë agitatedly. Acknowledging me for the first time since our row in the court.

"Somewhere," I offered vaguely. Spite smarted in my chest: I was determined to be as much of an asshole I could to her. "Who's your companion on this quest?"

Zoë balled her fists. She looked like she was considering if it was worth it to leap across the table and sock me in the face instead of deciding who would be more useful on the quest. Her volcano-black eyes flickered to Bianca decisively.

"No!" Her eyes – and everyone's attention – snapped to me at my outburst. "You can't bring Bianca!" I clarified irately. "She's too inexperienced – you'll get her killed!"

Later, I would've regretted speaking up. Rebellion flashed in Zoë's eyes and she decided: "I wish Bianca to go."

Bianca stared at me, mouth flapping open. I glared at the table, my head twitching – a small shake of my head. To tell her to deny it. Let a more experienced Hunter go with Zoë and get killed in her state. "Me? But … I'm so new; Taylor's right, I wouldn't be any good."

"Thou will do fine," Zoë insisted, touching Bianca's arm reassuringly. Her hateful eyes bore into my own blue depths – she saw into two eras at once: Taylor Grace before her and Hercules from eons ago. I didn't know if I should be flattered to be compared to Hercules. "There is no better way to prove thyself. Do not let a boy such as _he_ decide thy worth. Thou are powerful, Bianca. I have faith in thee – prove the son of Zeus wrong."

"I'll be watching," I grumbled.

_I won't let you die._

Surprise flashed across her face so hard that I thought, for a moment, she heard what I was thinking. Then, Bianca squared her shoulders. "Alright," she said. "I'll go."

"Excuse me," I grunted. My chair scrapped against the tiles as I stood abruptly, without waiting for anyone to close the meeting.

"Taylor," began Chiron warningly.

But Zoë cut across him. "Hold it, boy!" She'd sprung to her feet. "Where is the Lady Artemis?"

I couldn't stop the slow smirk from curving my lips: she was entirely dependent on me and we both knew it. "If I told you," a dramatic pause, "then you'd be too scared to even go."

I left, sure that the wail of rage had gave everyone enough preparation to stop her from lunging after me to beat me to a bloody pulp.

Hah.

**o0O0o**

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><p><strong>Answer to question last chap: <strong>It's partially based on _the Percy Jackson and the Greek Heroes_ version of Hercules' myth. Hera just took advantage of the rage already stirring in the son of Zeus to make him snap. The majority of the readers answered that it was because Taylor's mother was insulted and Hera was the goddess of motherhood and etc. but no, that's not it.

Hera was testing how much she could, and when she could, control Taylor. Like spurring him into manslaughter of demigods she despised. Also a reminder that she had power over him, to show him his place. Thanks for trying though, guys.

**Note:** In any case, this story now has 700 reviews! That's awesome – again, thanks! So, the 700th (you know who you are :D), 750th, 775th and 800th reviewers get to request a drabble, or any ideas you have can be implemented into the story.

I'm stuck on this story, TBH, even though I really want to write. So ideas are really appreciated.

On another note, I've two Harry Potter stories – following a reviewer's advice, start new stories when you're stumped: one is _an SI as Sirius's-adopted-daughter_, a rewrite of my old Darker Than Black; and the other features _Harry as Regulus Black's son_, a what-if AU. Please check it out if you're part of that fandom :)

**Question:** Can you guess who's POV was that at the first portion?

**R&R**


	18. NOTICE

**Notice - Replace Entirely or Just Begin Anew?**

So, I've been going back and rereading this story to remember what I had initially planned for it. Instead, I was assaulted by lots of grammar mistakes, lack of a solid background for my SI, and character development. I feel that I've copied a lot right out of the Demigod Diaries, and my SI's seriously interrupting dynamics.

I wish to rewrite it and improve upon this.

Here's a preview of it:

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><p><span><em>Chapter 1 – Phantasmagoria<em>

**Ψ**

It was a plastic crypt in a sea of neonates, infants' incessant crying the requiem held at my sanity's funeral.

_I'm losing it, definitely losing it—those damned new interns must've mixed up my dosage … Am I dead? Poisoned to death? And, if this heartbeat is real—reborn?_

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the urge to slip under and sleep. How long had it been since I was so lucid? When my thought processes weren't hindered by drugs and I was so torpid I could've been a corpse?

Since a time when I was still naïve, still believed justice was worth fighting for. And look where it landed me: a mental institution with a mental affliction I never had, driven increasingly insane every day with the rest of the loony-bins, drugged sky-high, chained by a tycoon uncle's immense influence over the right persons and left to cling to a debilitating certainty that I was _sane_. And that only I knew the truth of how my father had died—in a ruthless gambit for more power, more wealth.

A shift of fabric, a soft whine, and a line of warmth was drawn between my skin and the other infant's.

I couldn't deny how comforting this was. Skin contact without enforcement and callousness. The touch of skin simply to share warmth and comfort.

I had a vague idea of who this baby was. Twins were typically born prematurely and would be expected to spend some time in neonatal care: how long exactly I didn't know. Either there wasn't enough space in the hospital-or-clinic to house for a prolonged amount of time or it was for convenient regulation of body temperatures and sleep cycles.

My sibling.

My twin.

My first thought of a twin wasn't of someone who'd share my face, if we were identical twins, or one who would be there with me always.

I was thinking that—_here is someone who'll always believe me_. And _I'll treasure them always_.

**Ψ**

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><p>As you can probably tell from the title of the notice, I was wondering if I should just delete the chapters and repost one by one. Or, begin a new story.<p>

You can also vote on my profile. Input welcomed :)


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